


Mess With Sam, Sign Up For a Painful Death

by Katlover98



Series: While You Were Gone Series [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother!Dean, Dark!Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Low Self-Esteem!Sam, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Torture, mentions of watersports, torturer!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 55,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlover98/pseuds/Katlover98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is tired of waiting. He's going after the bastards that went after Sam if it's the last thing he does. Unfortunately, though he has had to make a few deals with an old enemy. Dealing with revenge, taking care of a traumatized little brother and a kinda pissed off prophet and his mother is harder than it seems. AU after Southern Comfort with some canon parts. Warning inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or any characters you recognize.  
> Warning: Extreme torture and gruesome scenes, also aftermath of rape, talk of suicide and self-harm. If any of these is a trigger please don’t read.  
> Thanks to cappy712 for being my beta.  
> Enjoy.

**Prologue**

Crowley watched apathetically as the latest demon corpse was being dragged away from his office in hell. To say that Crowley was a displeased would be the understatement of this very young century. He had yet to be able to find the demon tablet and Kevin, the prophet and only person that could read it. And it was all thanks to those nosey, co-dependent Winchesters.

From what little his stupid, idiotic demons have been able to come up with is that Sam and Dean have worked their differences and aren’t fighting anymore. As a matter of fact, Dean has become _more_ protective of his brother and doesn’t let Sam out of his sight. They’ve been doing fewer hunts and when they do it’s usually a little ghostie here, a little beastie there but they have avoided demons and angels. Castiel still hasn’t been heard from and Dean’s instincts and skills have actually sharpened. Basically, his demons have found out a lot of information but not where the Prophet is being kept.

“Bloody idiots, can’t do a simple thing themselves,” he mumbled while pouring himself a glass of his favorite drink, Craig scotch, aged thirty years. Just as he was about to take his first sip he felt he was being summoned.

“Seriously, just as I’m about to take my drink,” he snapped his fingers to where he was being summoned and came face to face with a smirking Dean Winchester holding the demon killing knife. Crowley looked above his head and saw a devil’s trap. Bollocks.

“Squirrel, to what do I owe this honor?”

“Well,” he started while twirling the knife around and around in his hands, “I  
 could kill you right now since I have you powerless in there.” He smirked while he said that and Crowley was preparing himself to fight against Dean and hopefully come out alive _and_ with some answers as to where the tablet and Kevin were at.

“Or,” he put the knife away and took out a bottle of Craig scotch from a brown bag, took out two glasses and poured some of the amber liquid in both, “we can talk business.”

Crowley was surprised when he heard Dean said that and thought he had lost his mind from stress of ruling a kingdom but Dean shot at the devil’s trap so it could break and let Crowley out, moved forward and gave him a glass full of his favorite drink.

“Hope this is as good as you say, Crowley.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and said, “What sort of business are we talking about, Squirrel?”

Dean just smiled and took one swig to drain his drink (which was a shame, really, as he didn’t even savor it), made a face and started talking.

 

**Chapter One**

Dean was feeling restless. Beside him, Sam was sleeping in his own bed with his eyebrows scrunched together; probably the starts of a nightmare, which is why Dean was feeling restless in the first place. It has been close to two months since Sam told him about his captivity, rape and torture but Dean was no closer to finding the sons of bitches that was the cost of Sam’s suffering and Dean’s bane.

Yesterday, he even did something stupid. He summoned Crowley and made a bargain with the king of hell. He hadn’t told Sam about it, he would just get pissed off at Dean and after the feeling of angers disappeared, he would start feeling responsible. Dean didn’t want that; he wanted Sam calm, occupied and _not_ thinking about what had happened to him while Dean was in purgatory. Which is the reason Dean had stopped asking Sam for the names of his assailants and where he had been kept.

Mostly because of what had happened two weeks ago. Dean had gone out to a bar because he needed to line his wallet up with cash. He had left Sam alone—Sam had declared he was too tired to go out—and when he came back he had found Sam in the tub of the hotel naked, scrubbing himself raw in hot water and with fresh cuts that had littered Sam’s arms and legs. 

The next morning Sam had explained that it was Dean’s mother henning and questions that had led him to that state of mind. So, Dean had eased up, he let Sam have his morning runs without calling even though the whole time Dean had horror shows running through his head, let Sam go out to pick lunch and supplies and even stopped asking Sam for names and places.

Still, Dean felt he was going insane without knowing who they were and doing something about it. Preferably, torturing and killing the bastards. Dean was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard Sam groan. Dean got up and started shaking Sam awake.

“Hey, Sam, wake up. You’re having a bad dream. Sammy!” He half whispered, half yelled.

Sam woke up with a gasp and moved away from Dean almost falling off the bed. Any other time Dean would’ve thought that hilarious but now, it left Dean feeling heartbroken and sad.

“Dean, what the hell just happened?”

“You were having a nightmare. Decided I should wake you up before you started screaming and brought law enforcements down our asses,” he said trying to be funny and lighten the mood; it didn’t work.

Sam nodded and pulled the covers up to his chin while he was sitting against the headboard. He looked so young and lost, it shattered Dean’s heart.

“Wanna talk about?”

“It’s nothing, Dean; I barely even remember the dream,” he whispered almost as if he was afraid to talk louder than that.

Dean let a deep breath out of his nose and said, “Sam, we’ve talked about this. You can’t bottle things in, it ain’t good for you.”

Sam looked up and still whispering, answered, “Not right now, okay? I don’t want to think about so close to the nightmare and in the dark. In the morning, please, Dean?”

Dean made the mistake to look straight at Sam’s face; he had the puppy eyes out in full force.

“Alright, fine, but we _will_ talk about this in the morning, capisce?”

Sam nodded and looked at Dean opening his mouth as if he was going to ask him something. Then he shook his head and went to lie back down to sleep. Dean gave a small sighed and walked towards Sam’s bed, saying, “Scoot over, jerk face, I need space to lie down, too.”

“Dean, you don’t have to,” Sam told Dean even as he was scooting over.

“Shut up and go to sleep, I’m tired.” Sam moved closer to Dean as if he was trying to get more warmth from his brother, sighed a little and in a few minutes was snoring softly. Dean looked at his little brother’s face. It looked peaceful now, no scrunched up forehead, no tossing and turning, just…peaceful.

That was their new normal now. Whenever Sam had a nightmare Dean would crawl into bed with him like he used to do when Sam was younger and on those occasions when they had their own bed. It was the only way Sam didn’t have any nightmares. Dean would do it from the time Sam went to bed so the nightmares wouldn’t start but Sam would look mortified and would only allow Dean to sleep beside him when it was the middle of the night and he felt vulnerable.

Dean pulled Sam closer to him and encircled his arms around his little brother. He put his chin on top of Sam’s head and whispered quietly, “don’t worry Sam, soon this will all be over. I’ll get to those bastards and this nightmare will end.”

‘At least, I hope so,’ Dean added in his mind. Sam gave a content sigh and snuggled closer to his big brother feeling a lot safer and less scared of the dark. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : Don't own Supernatural or any of its characters Warning: Read beginning of the first chapter. Enjoy!

The next morning, Dean woke up next to Sam and was holding him close. They were definitely not cuddling. Sam gave a little sigh and scooted closer to Dean. Okay, maybe they were cuddling a little but there's no way in hell Dean was ever going to admit that. Dean put his chin on top of Sam's head and stayed still, waiting for Sam to wake up.

Dean felt his emotions were all over the place. He talked to Crowley hoping he would be able to find Kevin quicker and made a deal to keep the kid out of the demons paths. He also made some more deals with Crowley and he hoped it wasn't a mistake. Hopefully, though, with Crowley's 'help', Dean should be able have multiple things done and get revenge. 'God, I hope this works out and I'm not making a mistake.' Of course, making deals with a demon, let alone the King of Hell probably wasn't the best idea, and Dean had had a lot of bad ideas in his life.

Beside him, he felt Sam stirring and starting to wake up. Dean waited patiently as Sam yawned and wiggled around a little.

"Geez, Sammy, close your mouth. It smells like a rat died in there."

"Shut up, asshat."

Sam sat up and scooted away from Dean. He started stretching and yawned a second time.

"What time is?"

"Nine, which means I need to go get breakfast."

"Hmm. Breakfast sounds nice, especially after I take a shower."

Dean's eyes tightened a little and looked at Sam. He seemed alert enough and didn't seem tired but there were dark bruises under his eyes. Dean kept looking at his brother and starting noticing little things that showed Sam wasn't 'alright', which remained Dean that he had to ask Sam about his dream.

"Sam, who're you doing?"

Sam turned to Dean rather quickly and his eyes widen a little before he composed himself with a small smile on his face; Dean saw right through it, though.

"I'm fine, Dean," he said quickly, a little too quickly.

"Sam…"

"I'm fine, I swear, I don't even remember the dream," he said but Dean could see the way Sam was rubbing his arms, the way he would scratch himself, the way he would bite his lips so hard that they would start bleeding and, the most telling sign, the way his eyes were looking everywhere but at Dean.

Dean prided himself in knowing all about his little brother and his quirks and after Dean found out about Sam's capture and rape he found a new set of habits that let him read Sam like an open book. Right now, those same habits were telling Dean that Sam was lying to him and worst, he was distressed.

"Sam, we've talked about this, the more you keep in the worst it is for you."

"I said I'm fine!" he snapped. Any other time Sam acting like that would've pissed Dean off but he'd done his research. He knew if a rape survivor was questioned or forced to remember, especially for men, that they could lash out in defense.

Sam turned his back on Dean and started going through his duffel to pick out clothes. It saddens Dean a little because Sam had gotten used to dressing in front a Dean. It felt like if they were taken steps back.

"Sam, we've talked about this. You can't keep holding this in; it'll hurt you even more."

Sam kept his back on Dean, continued rummaging through his duffel and took out some clothes, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Dean got up and stood by Sam's side; he had bad feeling running down his spine and looked at Sam's clothes. Dean tried to take Sam's clothes away but he wouldn't let go.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"Sam, if I'm wrong and I hoping I am, than I'm sorry. But if I'm not…"

Dean was finally able to pry the clothes that Sam held on to as if his life depended on it and started to shake them. As soon as he did a switchblade fell out between the pants and shirt.

Sam looked down at his feet that he was shuffling around, looking away. Dean sighed and picked up the switchblade.

"What d'ya dream about last night, Sam?"

Sam turned his head to the side so he wouldn't look at Dean and tried to walk around him to get to the bathroom. Dean stopped him, put his arms around Sam's waist and started pushing him towards the bed. Once Dean got to the edge of the bed he sat Sam down and then went to sit next to him.

"Sam what did you dream last night?" Sam still refused to look at Dean and responded with, "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean looked upwards and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, "Sam, we've talked about this. Last time you kept everything in you hurt yourself and Sam I don't want to see you in pain. Just talk to me, Sammy."

"No chick flicks," he mumbled, almost sounding like a put out child.

Dean picked up the switchblade Sam was going to take into the bathroom to hurt himself. He thought about all the pain his brother must be in and shutting Dean out was not a smart thing to do. Dean also knew that once Sam starting talking he would not stop until everything was out, so first thing to do get Sam to start talking to him.

"Sam, I've said it before and I'm saying it again. This isn't about chick flicks or other stuff that we usually keep bottle up and let out through alcohol and violence. This about you hurting yourself and keeping things in that is killing you little by little. Sam just please, talk to me, bro. I don't want to see you withering away in front of me."

Sam hid behind his hair like a curtain and mumbled something unintelligible. Dean got closer to Sam and asked him to repeat that.

"I…I dreamt about being stuck in the cage with Michael and Lucifer," he said in an emotionless voice but his eyes were full of agony.

Dean sucked in his breath and cursing in his head. It wasn't enough Sam was dreaming about the bad shit that happened on this stinking planet, no, he also had dream about shit that happened to him while he was down in the pit as Lucifer's and Michael's only form of entertainment. Come to think about, though, Sam never really talked what happened to him down there and Dean understood. He knew how hell is and he knew talking about it doesn't make any difference. But maybe he should've pushed Sam to talk about. He wasn't like Dean; he always liked to talk and get his feelings out but Dean had never even thought about it. Now it was coming back and biting him in the ass.

"I dreamt that Michael was hurting me physically, that's what he liked, to torture me physically and just enjoyed to hear me scream. I actually preferred Michael over Lucifer because Lucifer he would," Sam paused for a moment, gave a shudder and wrapped his arms around himself, "he would like to torture me psychologically and sexually."

He gave a humorless laugh, "I don't know why what happened to me on Earth is bad when Lucifer had made things a million times worse for me." He sighed and looked towards the table.

They stayed in silence for a few minutes and just as Dean was about to start talking, Sam continued with his dream. "So I was in the cage and then Lucifer and Michael said 'brought some friends over so they could play, too'.

Sam choked back a sob and leaned against Dean; he said nothing and silently put his arms around Sam's shoulder while putting his head on top of Sam's.

"It was Fred and the other three that held me for that month. It was horrible. They had the same tools and they're perverted imagination along with Michael's and Lucifer's. I just… couldn't take it anymore. I woke up this morning with the dream still stuck in my head and that's why I was going to, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," he said but something else had caught Dean's attention. Sam had said 'Fred'; Dean doubted that Sam even noticed he had said that out loud. Dean finally had a name. It wasn't much but it was something, he could work with that. With some help, from a douchebag that liked to make deals, he was one step closer to finding the bastards that did this to Sam. Dean gave a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.

They stayed like that for a while with Dean comforting his little brother as best as he could and Sam breathing in rather raggedly while occasionally letting out a sob or two. Dean then suddenly heard his stomach growling rather loudly and felt like cursing himself out. He was trying to comfort Sammy and here his stomach was making itself known.

Sam leaned away from Dean, wiped his eyes and got up, "You should go get breakfast, I'm hungry and by the sounds of it so are you. I'll be fine, I promise. You can even take every sharp item if you want. I just want to take a nice, long shower."

"Are you sure?" Sam nodded, got his towel and started for the bathroom.

"Sam," he stopped and looked at Dean with bloodshot and teary eyes, "don't put the water too hot. It's not good, you can burn yourself. Maybe after you get out you can look for a case so we can get to work."

"Actually, there is something that has caught my attention but I want to look at it a bit more before I jump to conclusions."

"Okay, Sammy. I'll be back as soon as I can...Sammy, it wasn't your fault. Everything that happened, it's just, I don't know, bad luck," he finished off lamely.

Sam gave a nod but Dean could see he wasn't convinced. Dean sighed, he couldn't win them all. Sam entered the bathroom and Dean stayed seated for few extra minutes thinking about the name. 'Fred'. The name of the son of a bitch that held Sam captive and tortured his little brother until he felt like trash. 'Fred', soon to be hunted down by Dean and when Dean got a hold of him, he would be begging for Death but he won't get that mercy. At least not anytime soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short and taking so long to update. My internet isn't working the way it should and I still haven't fixed. I'll try to put the other chapters up as soon as I finish as possible which probably won't be for a week or two. Sorry! Thanks for being so patient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, don’t own Supernatural or any of its characters. I’m just borrowing them and making them suffer for my own enjoyment.  
> Warnings: Read first chapter. No particular warning for this chapter.  
> A/N: Though this story is AU from season 8, there are some things that happened in canon that I’m going to leave. Still don’t know how it’ll work out but hopefully it will turn out alright.  
> This chapter is when Cas comes back and I’ll try to leave it as close to that episode as possible but most likely there’ll be a lot of changes.  
> Hope you enjoy.

Dean was driving back to the motel room with breakfast. He was a little worried so he drove a little over the speed limit. He was listening to music and actually felt like he was getting somewhere now. He had a name! And Dean knew it wasn’t something to be impressed with, seriously how many ‘Fred’s’ where out there in the world. But after having nothing to go on, he felt he was one step closer to finding the fuckers.

Dean turned up the volume a little more and looked straight ahead. He noticed a homeless man with a trench coat walking on the edge of the road. Dean squinted a little. There was something familiar about that man. Dean kept staring until he got close to the man to see his face.

Dean suddenly stopped the car, shocked. It was Cas. Dean put the car in reverse and looked behind him. Castiel was gone.

‘What the hell,’ he thought. Cas was in purgatory. After failing to get him out Dean has felt guilt for failing. Of course, lately he’s been too busy with helping Sam but Cas was always there, in the back of his mind. Had he finally snapped and started hallucinating? No. It was most likely a trick of the mind. Dean decided to get out of the car, though; he looked around the area to see if maybe, just maybe Cas was out.

There was nothing, only the sound of the wildlife animals and a giant, wooden bear that was holding up a sign telling everyone who came down the road where ‘Twin Pines Resort’ was at. Dean shook his head and got back in the car.

When he got back to Rufus’ cabin, Dean could see that Sam was on the laptop. He had on a T-Shirt and a flannel shirt on with the sleeves up. Dean didn’t see any new scars and Sam wasn’t acting guilty or trying to avoid his gaze when he looked up which Dean took as a good sign.

“Hey, you look like you’ve se--. Well I was going to say ‘you look like you’ve seen a ghost’ but, you’d probably be stoked. You okay,” he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m good, what’s up?” Sam stared at him for a moment longer and turned back to his laptop.

“Well, this kid went missing from a preschool.”

Dean took off his jacket still lost in his thought and absently said, “That sucks, and?”

“And at the time he vanished, a surprise tornado hit, lasted about 20 seconds, then uh… shazam! Back to perfect weather.”

“Hmm,” Dean started with a bit of a chuckle in his voice, “and they pooh-pooh climate change.”

Sam gave a chuckle and continued with his explanation on the case, “Well similar wackiness has happened over the past few weeks in other places, uh, Tulsa, a bus driver vanishes and a river gets overrun with frogs. New Mexico a mailman disappears, the earth splits open.”

Dean was just half listening to Sam, thoughts still on seeing Cas walking on a friggin’ highway when, last Dean checked, he was in purgatory.

He turned around and walked towards Sam, “Alright, so, uh, you thinking demons?”

“Yeah, possibly, but…I mean this stuff was major. These people have nothing in common. No religious affiliations, different hometowns, all ages. Why would demons want _them_?”

“Why do demons want anything,” Dean replied, “So we on this?”

“Yep,” Sam said while Dean heard him closing the laptop.

OoOoOoOo

A while later Sam and Dean pulled up to the house where the kid’s teacher lived. Dean knocked on the door and when they saw here peeking through the door they both flashed their FBI badges. She opened the door just a crack so they could see her but not the inside of her home.

“Mrs. Hagar, Agents Roth and Malloy,” Dean said, “We want to speak to you about Aaron Webber’s abduction.”

She opened the door a little more, “Look, like I told the police, one minute I was taking Aaron to get cleaned up, and the next minute… I woke up in a park three blocks away.

“And you have no memory of what happened,” Sam asked?

“No, he was just gone.”

“Can you think any reason why somebody would want to harm him? Um, any enemies,” Dean asked.

“Enemies? He’s five,” she said, giving Dean a look as if he was stupid.

Sam started whispering the exorcism into the phone, “Excuse me?”

It’s, uh, code for your own safety so that you can’t reveal anything under enhanced interrogation,” Dean lied, “Where there any signs of struggle?”

“No.”

By this point Sam had stopped pretending to speak on the phone and asked, “Smell like sulfur?”

“How did you know,” she answered.

Sam gave a little smile and said, “Lucky guess. Thank you for your time.”

Mrs. Hagar closed the door and started walking towards the car.

“No reaction to the exorcism,” Dean said.

“Yeah, not possessed at the moment, but I’m willing to bet a demon got ahold of Aaron Weber.”

* * *

 

When they got back to the motel the first thing Dean did was get food into Sam, kid needed to eat more. Then he made sure Sam got into bed to sleep. Dean was beginning to hate how the dark circles under Sam’s eyes were beginning to look permeant. The moment Sam’s head hit the pillow he was snoring away which made Dean happy. Unfortunately for Dean, though, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He had too much going on in his head. Seeing Cas, trying to find a way to help Sam without freaking him out, looking for a lost prophet, making deals with the King of Hell, and trying to find four bastards with just one name. Dean gave a weary sigh and decided to do research for the case they were working on.

He had the laptop open and was reading an article on the missing persons. Suddenly there was a crack of lightening which made Dean look up. The moment he did he saw Cas staring at him out of the window. ‘What the hell?’

He closed the laptop and went to the window to get a better look but there was no one there. Was he going fucking insane or something?

Behind him he heard Sam stirring, “Dean, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I just saw something.”

“Uh, you saw what,” he asked.”

“Cas,” what the hell is going on here?

“Cas, where,” by this point Sam was behind Dean; he was too busy thinking to even notice or care that Sam wasn’t in bed, sleeping.

“Right there, and earlier, on the road. I feel like I’m seeing him.”

“That's... not possible. I mean, you said it yourself. You made it out and he didn't, right?” Sam asked.

“I tried so damn hard to get us the hell out of there,” Dean turned around a walked away from the window rubbing his chin.

“I know you did,” Sam faced turning around to face Dean.

“You know, I could have pulled him out. I just don't understand why he didn't try harder,” Dean said turning his back again.

“Dean,” he turned around again to look at Sam, “You did everything you could,” he said.

“Yeah, but why do I feel like crap,” Dean asked.

With a shrug of his shoulders Sam replied, “Survivor’s guilt? If you let it, this is gonna keep messing with you. You got to walk past it.”

Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders and walked towards the bathroom. Dean doesn’t even really pay attention because he’s too busy remembering purgatory and talking to Cas. Well, more like Cas trying to convince Dean that even if the portal existed that there was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t allow Cas to go through.

Dean, of course, hadn’t paid attention and had just said that the angel was coming with them. Dean just stood there in the same spot thinking about what he could’ve done differently so that Castiel could be with them instead of being stuck in purgatory fighting for his life.

* * *

 

Dean didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t; his thoughts kept going back to Cas and purgatory. Beside him, Sam slept on. On the plus side, Sammy was finally getting a good night’s sleep. Well, he only tossed and turned but didn’t wake up and seem to settle down when Dean told him everything was fine.

By six in the morning, Dean had probably slept an hour or two. He decided to get up and go get breakfast. Not that he was really hungry but he had a little brother to feed. Out of habit he turned his head to look at Sam who was still sleeping peacefully and hugging his pillow. Dean had to give a small smile and thought, ‘thank God for small miracles.’

He got up and put on some pants. Before he left, Dean went up to Sam and stroked his hair for a second or two. Sam gave a small sigh and burrowed deeper into the sheets and it made Dean smile a little.

_This_ is what Dean should be worrying about. Taking care of Sammy, of the only family he had left. _Sam_ was the reason he had made a deal with the devil, so to speak, and basically giving up shutting all demons out of earth. Dean didn’t care if it was selfish. Besides why should have to do more? He’s done as much as he could.

So, he shouldn’t, and he wouldn’t, be obsessing about what happened in purgatory and feeling bad about himself because he couldn’t help Cas. No, he had to worry about finding Sam’s tormentors, getting rid of them so Sam could move on and not be afraid anymore. Dean gave himself a little nod and went to the car to get some breakfast. After all, he had a kid brother to feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for it being so short. Secondly, I know I’m taking a while to post chapters but I just want you to know that I’m not going to stop this story or verse any time soon. Thirdly, I’m sorry if this chapter kind of sucked. I know it had a lot of the episode’s dialogue on it. So, once again, sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't owe Supernatural and so on and so forth.
> 
> Again, sorry for how short it is and how long it’s taking. I’m kind of lazy and I started classes again.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.

When Dean got back to the motel Sam was already up. He put the food down on the table by where Sam was sitting at and he immediately started looking in the bag. Before Dean knew it, Sam had taken out the food and was digging in as if he hadn’t eaten in a few days. It made Dean’s heart feel good seeing his little brother eating because he rarely ate these days.

Dean sat down and started eating his food, too. He wasn’t really hungry but he wanted to keep an eye on Sam to make sure he would eat his breakfast. In the end Sam ate all of his food and some of Dean’s.

Afterwards, Dean went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face and Sam was researching on his laptop.

“Hey, so it's not just Americans who are vanishing. Uh, this guy, Luigi Ponzi disappeared walking between two subway cars in Rome. And right above ground, there was a freak hail storm,” he yelled from across the room so Dean could hear.

“So, we going to Rome? Wouldn't be too shabby,” he responded with a bit of a chuckle to his voice. Dean looked up to the mirror after he finished drying his face and was startled to see that Cas was staring back at him. He turned around knowing he was going to see an empty space; he was surprised when he could still see the angel, “Hello, Dean,” he greeted.

OoOoOoOo

Dean was leaning on the kitchenette that the motel had and Sam was sitting by the table with Cas.

“Unbelievable, man. I cannot believe it. You're actually here,” Sam told Cas excitedly. Dean was still trying to wrap his mind on everything. Castiel was really here, he wasn’t stuck in Hell’s backyard being chased by carnivorous monsters that can actually defeat angels.

“Yes, I've been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn't at full power. So I couldn't connect with you.”

Sam turned to Dean and said, “That must have been why you kept seeing him. I mean, you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he responded, “uh, I got to be honest. I'm thinking, how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I was there. I know that place. I know how we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through it, and it almost finished me. So, uh... so how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?” he directed his question to Cas and was it just Dean’s imagination or did he seemed to have a guilty expression on his face?

“Dean, everything you just said is completely true. And that's the strange part. I... have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from Leviathan, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois. And... that was it,” he ended with a shrug.

“And that—that was it?” he asked with incredulity lacing his voice. How the hell was that ‘it’? Dean remembers having to push and fight his way out of that stinking monster infected nest. He remembers every second of it, every pain, every feeling of ‘oh, crap! Is this when I die?’ And here Castiel was sitting across of him saying “and that was it?” Dean felt his bullshit radar going out of control on that half assed story and if there’s anything he had learned about his gut telling him someone was bullshitting him then most likely there had to be some bullshit in there. (Did he just think ‘bullshit’ three times in a row?)

“Yes,” there was a long pause that seemed to stretch for hours rather than a few seconds and finally Cas declared, “Oh, I’m dirty!”

Not knowing how to respond to the sudden change in topic, Dean just told Cas “Purgatory would do that to you.”

Castiel got up and walked past Dean to get to the bathroom to clean up. Dean stared after him, his mind throwing him back to when Benny, Cas, and himself tried to get through the portal to come back to Earth.

He could still hear Cas telling Benny his doubts about a portal even being there and that maybe Benny was being lied to. Then they saw a leaf pick up and get sucked in a blue light that was shining over a cliff. Dean remembers feeling so much relief.

There was their way out. Dean could see Sammy again and have his two friends (Benny deserved to be called a friend) with him in tow. He couldn’t wait to be with his brother again and not have to worry about being killed and/or eaten by monsters. He did the spell so Benny could be carried out of purgatory and then Castiel and he ran up to the cliff to get to the portal. Of course, because of Winchester luck, Leviathans decided to show up that moment and make everything difficult for them.

“Dean?” He got pulled out of his memories when he heard Sam.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?”

“You do see something,” Dean sat down opposite of Sam, “Severely wrong here, right? Sammy, I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the—the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear. I have that whole ugly mess right here, and he says he has no idea how he got out? I—I’m just not buying it.”

“So what, you think he's lying?” he asked.

“I'm saying something else happened. I saw the shape that he was in. I mean, there was no way he was fighting his ass out alone, no way.”

“All right, so, who... or what got him out?”

“Exactly,” what could have that much juice?

Just as Dean was going to ask out loud Cas came out of the bathroom looking like his old self again, “better.”

* * *

 

Crowley had just hung up when his phone started ringing again.

“Now what?” he looked at the caller ID, “great, just what I need. Squirrel, nice to hear from you, to what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?”

“What you think _I_ want to talk to you? Have you made any progress?”

“Well, _Dean,_ considering I only have a first name and that this Mandy is a hunter, what do you think?”

“Whatever, I have another name for you, Fred.”

Crowley waited a second or two and then asked, “Is that it? What, you think I’m God. I’m the King of Hell, not omniscient you think I can find someone with just a first name?!” he finished with a yell into the phone.

Dean had the audacity to snort, “Look, I don’t care how you find them, a tracking spell, blood sacrifice. I. Don’t. Care. Just find them.” Crowley heard the line go dead and he put his phone away.

“Bloody Winchesters,” still, nothing could really tamper his mood, mostly because a certain haughty witch thought that she wasn’t getting a good deal. Crowley entered the abandoned bar that the Tran’s were staying in and cleared his throat.

 “I wouldn't bother, Kevin. There's no rush. Hello, Delta.” Crowley did love to make a dramatic entrance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or other recognizable characters.   
> Warning: See first Chapter. No particular warning for this chapter  
> Enjoy

Dean entered the room with a six pack of beer and a strong, murderous feeling aimed towards Crowley; Sam was on the laptop, undoubtedly trying to find more on the case they were working on. Cas was watching television.

“What’s the latest?” Dean asked.

“The latest is…nothing. It's like it all stopped. No freak disappearances linked to any freak natural events,” he answered with a hint of frustration in his voice. Dean leaned over Sam’s shoulder after setting a beer down for him and looked at the laptop.

“So how many have we got, seven?”

“Yeah, uh, Luigi, Justin, Aaron, Maria,”

“Maria, Dennis, Krista, Sven,” Cas finished for Sam. Both brother stared at Cas hoping for an explanation and all they get is an amused, “I miss television.”

Dean felt his blood pressure rising.

“Wait, Cas. How did you know those are the names,” Sam asked; Dean couldn’t wait to hear this.

“Well, they’re prophets,” he answered while squinting at the TV that Dean so wanted to smash so he could get Cas’ full attention.

He just settled by echoing his previous statement, “Prophets?”

“Yeah, angels instinctively know the names of every prophet—past, present, and future,” he alternated between watching TV and looking at Sam and Dean; mostly at the TV though and by God, if that didn’t piss Dean off.

Still, as calmly as he could he said to Cas, “So this list is the name of every one of 'em that exists?”

“Yes, until the next generation is born, plus Kevin Tran, of course. The other seven are future prophets, since, uh, only one can exist at a time.”

Seriously, only one so what the hell happened to…

“Uh, how is Kevin a prophet if Chuck is a prophet?”

Chuck?

“I'm not sure what happened to Chuck, but, um...” he turned to look at Dean and said, “he must be dead.”

Well, on the plus side, no more Supernatural books. Still, though, it was kind of sad.

“So, the next one comes off the bench if Kevin goes down?” Dean asked Castiel.

“Exactly, and they have no idea who they are, of course.”

God, Dean had a headache. He had a pretty good idea who it was that ordered those kidnappings; yep Dean’s blood pressure was rising, rising.

“Crowley,” Sam sneered and turned to look at Dean who was trying hard to not grit on his teeth.

“Insurance, boy he’s getting desperate,” and Dean was getting desperate with the need to summon Crowley and beat the shit out of him. Of course, if he did that he’d had to explain to Sam what was going on which he did not feel like doing.

“Explains all the weird phenomena, lower-level demons nabbing heavy-duty cargo. The vessels of God's Word—boom.”

Cas finally shut off the TV, got up, and walked to stand beside Dean, “I get the feeling something's going on.”

Yeah, you think, he thought to himself sarcastically. At that moment Sam’s phone decided to ring.

“Hello,” he heard the other person and put up a look of surprise before it went to annoyance, “Mrs. Tran? Well, where the hell have you... What?” Sam stood up and turned towards Castiel and Dean, “Crowley's got Kevin.”

Oh yeah, Dean was definitely going to kill Crowley when all of this is done.

OoOoOoOo

Dean was outside going through the trunk of the Impala and trying to calm down before his head exploded. Stupid Crowley, Dean couldn’t wait to hear how this didn’t violate their deal. He slammed closed the trunk and saw that Cas was standing by him.

He jumped a little and said, “Dammit, Cas, don’t just pop up like that.”

“Apologies, I was just wondering what’s wrong with Sam.”

Dean felt his throat close up and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Sam is anxious and very scared. I accidentally bumped into him in the motel room and he jumped and almost stabbed me before apologizing. His emotions were so strong that they engulfed the whole room. When I asked him what’s wrong his he put an expression of pure terror before saying it was “nothing” and going into the bathroom. I just thought you should know and I wanted to know…Where are you going, Dean?”

Dean was running into the motel room and began pounding on the bathroom door, “Sam, are you okay? Open the door.”

“Dean, what’s wrong? Is Sam in trouble?”

Dean ignored Cas and was just about to kick the door in when Sam opened the door. He looked more or less okay, if it weren’t for how big his pupils looked.

“Dean, what’s wrong? I’m just using the,” Dean pushed his way in and closed the door on the angel’s face, “bathroom.”

“Are you okay?”

“Define, okay.”

“Sam…I’m serious here.”

“So am I, define ‘okay’. I feel like all of the memories of my time _there_ are all pressing on top of me. I feel like shit warmed over and all I can hear is Fred’s voice laughing at me for being weak and useless!” Sam screamed and then he slid down the floor and started sobbing.

Dean crouched down to Sam’s level and began soothing his brother. When Sam looked up Dean got a hold of Sam and hugged him while stroking his hair; he started humming and felt Sam calm down.

“What brought this on?” he asked after Sam was breathing normally and barely sniffling.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. It came out of nowhere. Dean,” he looked up, “what if this happens while we’re hunting? I know I said it doesn’t but what if it does? I’m a fucking liability to you!”

He stood up suddenly and paced the small, cramped bathroom muttering something Dean couldn’t make out.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he caught Sam’s wrist to stop his pacing, “we will deal with it. Right now though, it happened. It happened and it’s over for a moment. I suggest you stop thinking about it for the time being. We get Kevin and then we can have a nice long vacation with you resting. How does that sound?”

Sam gave a weary chuckle and said, “I’m a liability.”

He looked up to the ceiling and then stood up, “c’mon, we need to find Kevin. I’ve already wasted enough time.”

“Sam.”

He shook his head and started talking, “no, just…leave it for the moment, Dean, please. Can we just go look for Kevin?”

Sam gave Dean the kicked puppy dog look and it broke Dean’s heart. He nodded and said, “Let’s go find us a prophet.”

When Dean opened the door Castiel was standing there with an expressionless face.

“I assume we are about to go look for a lost prophet of the Lord.”

God, Dean couldn’t wait to get a hold of Kevin and Crowley.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short and for not updating a while now. I’ve started school that’s the major problem and I have my hands full. But don’t worry, I’m not giving up on this story anytime soon and I am so sorry for being a slow updater. 
> 
> Hoped you enjoyed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural.  
> Warning: Usual violence shown on the show.

Dean was driving the Impala with Cas in the backseat (looking a little car sick which for some reason made Dean feel a little better) and keeping an eye on Sam and making sure he was okay. He _seemed_ better but, that didn’t mean much. As much as Dean knew his brother he also knew that Sam had gotten way better at hiding his feelings and thoughts over the past few years; a fact that sadden Dean greatly.

Dean was busy with his thought that he almost missed where they were going to wait for Mrs. Tran until Sam pointed out, “right here, Dean.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” He stopped the car and heard the back door open; most likely Cas wanting to get out of the “confining contraption”. That only left Sam and Dean in the car with an uneasy silence hanging in the air.

“Dean…” Sam hesitated for a moment and then got out of the car. Dean waited a second or two and then climbed out himself and stood beside the Impala waiting with his brother and Cas for Mrs. Tran.

OoOoOoOo

Sam, Cas and Dean were sitting in the Impala, they were sick of standing outside, waiting for Mrs. Tran who hadn’t shown up yet even though it was night time now.

“Where the hell is she?” Dean asked, impatiently.

Sam answered with, “She'll be here. Uh, mile marker 96 was kind of the halfway point.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. Dean hated waiting, his thoughts kept going back to Purgatory and he hated his inability to control his own mind.

Dean remembers the portal, the ticket to going home, shimmering with moving blue lights. He remembers when he swings at the first Leviathan that showed up and how it ducks and pushes Dean to ground causing him to roll down the hill.

At the moment after Dean falls he sees Castiel putting a hand on the Leviathan’s head, presumably to smite it, when a second one shows up and kicks the angel in the back of his legs and punches him as he goes down. Dean remembers getting up to help Cas that was just about to get eaten by Leviathan number one. He went up to the Levi with his mouth open and sneaks behind him to decapitate him. Cas pushes the second Leviathan and Dean decapitates her, too.

“We got to move! The portal's closing,” he yells to Castiel. They both go uphill trying to get to the portal and Cas decides it’s a perfect time to lose his balance, “Cas! Damn it! Come on!”

Dean remembers stepping into the portal and stretching his hand out toward Castiel, yelling, “Come on!”

He remembers that Cas got hold of his hand and Dean yelling, “I got you, hold on!” Then, he felt Cas’ losing his grip on Dean’s hand. He remembers Castiel calling his name and Dean yelling, “hold on”.

Then, Cas loses his grip completely, tumbling down the slope, as the portal closes and the last thing Dean hears is his name being called out from Castiel.

Dean shakes himself back to the here and now and turns to Cas, “Cas, can I talk to you outside?”

They both get out of the Impala and Castiel asks him “what?”

“Exactly, what?  What the hell happened back there?” Cas did the head tilt that resembles a bird when he asked that. “Purgatory? I told you I would get you out. We were there! It was like you just gave up. It's like you didn't believe we could do it. I mean, you kept saying that you didn't think it would work. Did you not trust me?”

“Dean…”

He ignored Cas and continued talking, “I did everything I could to get you out—everything.” Cas squinted his eyes, “I did not leave you!

Castiel continued to squint his eyes but, this time, with disbelief in his expression and voice, said, “So you think this was your fault?”

Dean was about to answer when he saw some headlights just beyond the trees and both Cas and he turned to look. Sam got out of the Impala and they kept looking towards the car and finally, Mrs. Tran was here.

Dean filed everything he and Cas had just said for later. It was time to get back their prophet.

Mrs. Tran had parked right beside the Impala and stepped out of the car. Immediately she went up to them and asked, “You can do this, can't you? You can get him back?”

“How did Crowley found you?” Dean asked with a bit of exasperation in his voice.

“Oh, I hired a witch, and she ratted us out.” Seriously, of all the stupid things she could’ve done she went and hired a fucking witch. He had to fight done the urge to strangle her.

“A witch, why did you hire a witch?” Sam asked her.

And her brilliant answer was, “To make demon bombs, of course! These are Kevin's notes.”

She handed the notes to Sam and to stop from saying something stupid he asked her, “You have any idea where Crowley took him?”

“No. But, uh,” she opened the trunk of her car and inside was a bound man with tape on his mouth, “this guy might.”

Just like that, all of the dark thoughts aimed at Mrs. Tran dissipated; she certainly gave him a nice present all tied up in a pretty bow, too.

“Oh,” he took out the demon killing knife, “Let’s talk.”

OoOoOoOo

Dean and Mrs. Tran drove their respective cars along a fence outside of a factory. Sam looked at Dean and gave a nod of his head before getting out of the Impala and going over to Mrs. Tran’s car. As per the plan, he handcuffed her to her steering wheel and said something to her, knowing Sam, probably apologizing.

Dean and Castiel got out of the car and Dean went to Mrs. Tran’s car to open the trunk and reveal the demon in it.

“This it?”

The demon looked around before answering, “Yes.”

At that moment Mrs. Tran decided to yell out, “My son is in there.”

“Which means Crowley already has leverage, we don’t need another hostage,” Sam explained calmly to her.

At that time Dean decided it was time for the demon to die. He took out the demon killing knife and stabbed the demon; his mouth and eyes lighted up orange and quickly stopped flickering indicating the demon’s death.

Dean closed the trunk as Sam got out and, while they walked away, Dean could hear Mrs. Tran screaming, “Oh, come on!”

OoOoOoOo

After they left Mrs. Tran behind, Sam, Cas and Dean found themselves walking down some stairs under some pipes. They passed some signs that warned people about sharp edges and to keep their fingers clear. Dean did a gesture towards Sam and Cas so they get out of sight; just as they do a demon passes by and Dean stabs him in the back with the knife to kill the demon.

“Alright, I’ll check that way,” Sam says.

When he said that, Dean felt a tight grip of fear in his heart, he didn’t want Sam to go alone, but before he could say so Sam went to the left leaving him alone with Cas. Dean wanted to tell the angel to go with Sam but knew it would make his brother feel inadequate so Dean nods to Castiel and they go right.

As Dean and Cas walked through the factory, Castiel told him, “We're very near Kevin.”

‘Awesome’, Dean thought. They were almost finished.

They kept walking opening doors and trying to be quiet. Dean just really wanted to find the kid, get him out, get Sam and put him in the car full of protection and go ‘home’ so they could rest.

Some instinct told Dean to look behind him and sure enough there was a demon there. Just as Dean was going to stab the demon to kill him, he throws him into some chains hanging from the ceiling. That left Dean a little disoriented and had to take a couple of seconds to get himself back together again.

Dean picks himself just in time to see the demon get smote and at the same time Cas steady himself on the wall as if he suddenly had all the energy sucked out of him. Dean picks himself up, goes over to Castiel and puts his hand on Cas’ shoulders.

“What the hell's going on, you're not all the ways back, are you?” he asked the angel.

Cas doesn’t answer and stands there a moment to probably pull himself together. He then points down a hall and tells Dean, “This way,” and began walking down the hall a little slowly. He leads Dean to a door that is, naturally, locked. He took out his lock picking kit and started to get to work on it. After a few minutes though, Dean felt resigned and stated out loud, “it’s not working.”

To which Cas responded with, “Dean, I'm going in.”

Dean felt disbelief in his mind looking at how Cas was swaying and told him, “Cas, no. You're not strong enough.”

Unfortunately, though, Castiel didn’t listen to him and disappeared right in front of Dean.

“Dammit,” he exclaimed and kept picking the lock. God knows what the hell was happening in that room but Dean could feel vibrations coming from inside it. He kept picking the lock as fast as he could and just when he thought it was a last cause, bam, the lock opened and Dean pushed through the door just in time to here Crowley say, “It’s all very West Side Story, but let's be logical. You look like hell, and I should know. You're not up for this.”

The moment Dean entered the room he screamed, “Hey!” Both Cas and Kevin turned their attention towards him and Crowley winked at him before he disappeared with the tablet causing Kevin and Cas to scream out, “NO!”

OoOoOoOo

They were all outside of the factory with the sun shining above them. Mrs. Tran was wiping blood off of Kevin’s face. Kevin himself had one of his hands bandaged because Crowley had cut one of his fingers off.

Sam walked up to both of them told them, “Cops are on their way. They're gonna pick up the prophets. Um, they'll all be heading home.”

“What about us?”

“I called a friend of ours, Garth. He does what we do. Well... in his own way. He'll keep an eye on you guys. No more going off on your own.” He explains to Mrs. Tran who rolls her eyes at him.

 “You get that it was hiring that witch that got you into all this, right?” He then turned towards Kevin and asked, “how you holding up, Kev?”

“You kidding? I want to seal those bastards up forever.” He holds up his bloody hand towards Sam’s face and he gives Kevin a look full of sympathy. “Bastard took my finger.”

“Cas thinks he might be able to fix that. In the meantime, just lay low till we get back to you, okay?”

“Does Castiel know how to find the Demon tablet so I can trap those assholes in hell forever?”

“Uhh, I’ll get back to you,” he said and started walking towards the Impala.

 

Dean and Cas were by the Impala and Dean was putting things away in the trunk who suddenly told the angel, angrily, “that was a bonehead move back there. You could’ve gotten yourself killed, why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Well I didn’t get killed, and it worked…Well kind of.”

“And if it didn't?” Dean asked with exasperation in his voice.

“It would have been my problem.”

“Well, that's not the way I see it,” Dean told him with a mulish expression on his face.

“Hey,” Cas started, “everything isn't your responsibility. Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility.”

Whoop, there it was, the source of (one) guilt that had been bothering Dean since he first saw Castiel on the side of the road.

“You didn't get out, so whose fault was it?” he asked.

“It's not about fault. It's about will. Dean, do you really not remember?”

He gave a small laugh and replied, “I lived it, Cas. Okay, I know what happened.”

“No. No, you think you know. You remembered it the way you needed to.”

“Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!” Dean almost broke down crying remembering what Sam told him about his time while Dean was stuck in purgatory failing another person he cared about.

“Dean. Just look at it. Really look at it.” Castiel touched Dean’s forehead and he was sent into another flashback, this time, though, it’s in Cas’ point of view.

He sees himself running up the hill and suddenly Castiel stumbles, “Cas, damn it, come on!”

He reaches the portal and steps into it and stretches his hand out towards Castiel, yelling, “Come on!”

Cas grabs his hand and Dean tells him to hold on. Suddenly, Cas breaks his grip and lets go yelling at Dean to go. The portal then closes and it takes Dean with it.

Castiel moved his fingers from Dean’s forehead and suddenly Dean understood; it wasn’t that he could save Cas, it was that Cas had let go of Dean’s hand.

“See,” Castiel starts explaining, “it wasn't that I was weak, I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved.”

Now Dean was confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out, and I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try.”

Of all the stupid, idiotic explanations that Cas could’ve told him this had to be the stupidest, most idiotic one of them all. What was it with this family and having the need to hold on to guilty and feelings of deserving to make it up? Before Dean could yell at Castiel about it, though, Sam showed up and Dean shut his mouth while gritting his teeth.

“Hey, everything okay?”

‘Just peachy, Sam. Oh, by the way we’re all self-sacrificing idiots.’ He thought to himself.

“Yeah, just, uh… setting a few things straight,” Cas answered him.

“Good. Garth is gonna lay low with the Trans. Now we just have to track down the demon tablet. You're with us on this one, right, Cas?” he wasn’t really paying attention, actually by the looks of it he was a thousand miles away, “Cas, you okay?”

I'm—I’m fine. And, yes, I'm with you—if that's all right.”

“It is, right? You two are good?” Sam asks. Dean looks down and says “yeah,” before getting into the Impala.

OoOoOoOo

After a few hours Garth showed up, hugged the Trans, then Sam, Dean and Castiel (who looked very confused by it) and told the Trans he would, “put them somewhere safe were nobody will find them.”

When that was over, Dean drove to the first decent looking motel he could find and checked them in. Sam went to bed claiming he wasn’t hungry when Dean asked him what he wanted to eat, and immediately went to sleep.

Dean turned to Cas and asked him to keep an eye on Sam while he went out to get some grub, to which Cas answered with an, “of course.”

Dean got into the Impala and started driving off. Instead of going to a diner, though, he took a little detour first and went to the first abandoned place he could find which happened to be a warehouse. He parked just outside, took out everything he need, including the demon killing knife, made a devil’s trap and did the ritual to summon Crowley and waited; it didn’t take long.

“Squirrel, why am I not surprised?”

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t stab you in the face right now.”

“Because then you and the world would be bereft of my charming and witty personally, and really, we can’t have that.”

Dean took a menacing step towards Crowley and yelled, “You violated part of our deal!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Dean, I was just making sure I had insurance and _you_ didn’t go back on our deal. Besides I got the demon tablet, isn’t that what’s important.”

Dean started seeing red and walked towards Crowley with the intent to murder the little fucker.

“Now, Winchester, calm down. Since I got part of my deal I have your request ready, would be a shame if you killed me before you got to it.” That made Dean pause and Crowley smirk.

“Great, so I found your hunter, Mandy. Took me a while and had all of my demons scouring this whole nation to find her, but I did.” He took out a piece of paper and extended it towards Dean.

Just as Dean was about to get it Crowley pulled it away and said, “By the way, heard what happened to little Sammy while you were in your involuntary vacation in Purgatory. Poor kid, how is he by the way? Probably sniveling like a giant baby in the corner of whatever trash you two decide to hole up in.”

Dean felt his nostrils flare and he fought the impulse to stab the King of Hell.

“It would be a shame if little brother found out that a demon, and not just any demon but the King of Hell, knew his embarrassing little secret. Especially if said demon found out because big brother decided to make a deal with that certain demon.”

“What do you want Crowley?”

“I’ll give you a clue. He’s about 5’8”, a little scrawny and is the only person in the world that can read God’s chicken scratch on an old, dirty rock.”

Dean nodded and, without warning, punched Crowley in the face, kicked him to the floor and put the knife against his throat.

“Or, I could kill you right now, take the piece of paper and move on.”

“You still need me,” he screamed out.

“Not really, I have all I need on that paper you put in your pocket.”

“Fine…fine!” he yelled as he felt the knife draw some blood, “you drive a hard bargain. I won’t ask it again.”

Dean backed off and stepped out of the devil’s trap. Crowley got up and tidied up his suit before handing Dean the paper. He opened it up and saw a phone number on it.

“Her name is Amanda Dubois. She’s a hunter but mostly just looks up research for other hunters who ask. She owns a strip joint down in Oklahoma.”

“If you ever tell Sam any of this, I will gut you where you stand. Do I make myself clear?

“Oh Dean, such a flirt. Word of advice mate, moose will find out and when he does, shit will hit the fan. Now, can you let me out?”

Dean stood there for a second or two before he scratched the paint from the devil’s trap.

“Oh, by the way, say hi to Castiel for me, would you?” With that the King of Hell disappeared leaving Dean alone in an empty warehouse wondering if he was doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finished chapter 6!!!! Hope you like it, I will update as soon as I can.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t owe Supernatural; it belongs to its rightful owners. Enjoy
> 
> Yay, chapter seven. Sorry for the long wait, I’ve been busy at school and instead of studying for finals here I am doing this.   
> Hope you liked this chapter. Sorry for it being so short. I’ll try to update soon since my finals are all on Monday but no promises.   
> Any errors are mine, have no beta.

“Yeah, okay, thanks Garth. Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Okay, bye,” Sam hung up the phone with a vague expression of chagrin on his face.

“So, that was Garth and he, get this, finally got them to his houseboat.”

“Garth has a safe-houseboat?”

“Dude, don't even ask questions anymore.”

It was the next morning and Sam and Dean were sitting by the table while Castiel was going through Sam’s stuff; that really should’ve irritated them but for some reason, didn’t. Thankfully, the day before had been so stressful that Sam had slept with no nightmares resurfacing; Dean hoped it would stay like that for a while. Hey, a guy could dream.

“Great, well with that taken care of, sit down and eat.”

Sam got up and went to the bathroom while mumbling, “not hungry.”

Dean sighed and got his food to eat; Sam might not be hungry but Dean was. Dean also knew he had to keep an eye on Sam to make sure he ate.

Dean was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear when Cas got up and got startled when he sat by him. Dean kept eating after he got over being surprised but couldn’t really eat because Cas was staring at him expectedly.

He put fork down and asked, “Something bothering you?”

“There’s something wrong with Sam,” he stated with certainty.

“What makes you say that,” he decided to play dumb.

“Well, while both of you Winchesters tend to feel self-loathing, angst, and troubled, Sam seems to have multiplied that by a thousand. Of course, now there’s also fear, which seems strange as he only seems to feel that particular emotion when you are in trouble. There’s also anxiety, depression and self-condemnation. It’s coming off of him so strong I can feel it for miles and miles away.”

Dean gulped, God, he really needed to find a way to help Sam because, unlike his insistence that he was ‘fine’, he was clearly suffering.

Dean stared at Castiel and asked, “He doesn’t feel like hurting himself does he? He’s not suicidal?”

Cas gave a confused look and answered, “No, he’s just feeling overwhelmed.”

“I should go talk to him. Oh, and Cas, if you really want to know I suggest you ask Sam. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”

Cas gave a small nod, “Of course, I should’ve considered that but, I’m positive his words will be ‘I’m fine’, as it seems you Winchesters have basically coined that phrase.”

Dean rolled his eyes and walked towards the bathroom door; he had to talk to his brother.

OoOoOoOo

After Dean got Sam out of the bathroom he set him down so he could eat his (cold) breakfast.

“You want me to heat that up for you?”

Sam looked up at him and stared at Dean with a blank expression before he looked down to his food, “Oh, ah… yeah sure. Thanks.”

He handed his food to Dean and went back to staring at space. Dean frowned and went to heat up the food. While the food was heating up he stared at Sam, who was so out of it he didn’t even notice. He was worried.

Sam seemed to be getting worst and worst. He locks himself into his memory and when asked what’s wrong…well, the usual response is given.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who noticed because Cas would look away from the TV every once in a while to frown at Sam, then he would look straight at Dean with questions in his eyes. The only thing Dean could do was shrug. 

He put the food in front of Sam who didn’t notice. It takes Dean saying his name three times for Sam to even acknowledge that Dean’s been calling his name.

When he does notice he stares at Dean and then the food as if he’s confused of what he’s supposed to do.

“Oh, ah, thanks for, you know,” he gesture towards the plate of food, “yeah.”

He didn’t really eat his food, he was mostly picking it. After half an hour and with Sam’s plate still being three-quarters of the way full, he got up and put the food away.

“I think we should maybe stock up on supplies here. Maybe stay for a few days to,” find out what’s wrong, to talk, to scream, anything but the deafening silence you’ve been giving out these past two days, “rest. Wanna come with?”

“Uh, you know, I don’t really feel like going out much. I want to do some research. Maybe find the next case.”

“Kay, Cas, wanna come?”

Castiel looked up and shook his head.

“No, I want to stay here. Maybe catch up with Sam. I haven’t seen or talked to him for over a year, after all.” Castiel sent a smile towards Sam who just looked down with a sad smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure.”

Castiel looked up and stared right at Dean as if asking him for permission. Dean knew exactly what he was asking for and, though it annoyed Dean because Sam was _his_ and they only ever needed _each other_ , he thought maybe Sam would open up to Cas without feeling embarrassed.

So he gave Castiel a nod and announced, “be back in a few. Don’t wait up you crazy kids.”

OoOoOoOo

After Dean pulled up to the first store he was going in he took out the paper Crowley had given him. He stared at the number for a few seconds before taking his phone out. He waited impatiently for someone to pick up and just when he was going to hang up he heard a female voice say, “hello.”

“Yes, yes. Hi, am I speaking to Mandy?”

“Who wants to know,” came the guarded reply.

“My name is Dean Winchester. You know my brother, Sam. I believe you helped him out a few months ago.”

“Oh yeah, Sam, I know him. So he finally found you. I’ll tell you what that kid almost went crazy looking for you.  I told him to keep in touch but it’s been months, almost a year. I told the little bugger call but he never did. He’s fine, right?” She asked with concern entering her tone.

“No, yeah, he’s fine for the most part. I’m just calling because after Sam talked to you he came in contact with some hunters. I think one of them is called Fred. I was wondering if you knew them and could tell me where to find him.”

There was silence on the other line and Dean thought that Mandy had hung up when he heard her say, “Yeah, I know Fred and I would _never_ send Sam to him, so the question is, how does he know him?”

Dean ignored the last question and asked hopefully, “So you know where to find him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my brother.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t owe Supernatural.  
> Warning: Rape, sexual assault and rape of a minor (child). Please don’t read if it is a trigger.

Dean pulled up in front of the room they were staying at and stayed there with the engine off. He tapped on the steering wheel while thinking of the revelation Mandy had given him. Fred was her brother, well, half-brother. Still, that was something.

She quickly figured out why Dean would call her and ask about him (and really what did that say about the asshole). She decided it would be better if they talked face to face so he told them to meet up a town over from where they were in cuz there was no way he was telling her what town they were in. (The guy was her brother, what if it was a trap?). It’s a good thing he decided to stay for a few days because it would take her two days to show up. While Dean was thinking he heard a fluttering of wings and suddenly, Cas was sitting on the passenger seat.

“Cas, what—is Sam okay?”

“Sam is fine, Dean. He’s taking a shower at the moment. I heard the car pull up but you didn’t go inside so I decided to check up and make sure everything was okay.”

“Yeah, Cas everything is fine and dandy,” he told him with a bite of sarcasm in his voice.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Sam?” Dean turned towards Castiel, startled, before comprehension came to him.

“Sam told you,” he made it a statement.

“Yes, it was rather surprising. I thought he was going to dance around the question or say ‘I’m fine.’”

They sat silently in the car for a few before Dean broke it, “Did he…did he tell you anything that might be…important?”

“If you’re asking me if he told who his attackers were, then no, he didn’t, unless if it’s something else.”

“No, I—I was kinda hoping that maybe he had told you who they were, you know?” Cas nodded.

“I understand. You have a need to go after them and get revenge. If you want, I could read Sam’s mind without him knowing to get the names and their location.”

It was tempting, every fiber in Dean’s body wanted to say yes. He could get the names and get done with it but one thing stopped him. Sam.

If said yes to Cas then that means that he would read Sam’s mind—without Sam’s consent. Sam has had too many choices taken away from him; from his rapists, from both his parents, from heaven and hell and, even though it killed Dean to admit so, from him. No, he couldn’t do that to Sam. He’d find the information himself and exact his revenge. He frowned. Why did it feel that by the end of all of this, he would still violate Sam’s choices either way?

OoOoOoOo

A day and a half later Mandy called him saying she was about three hours away from their meeting place. They decided to meet in the only bar the town had which was more than fine with Dean. He turned to look at Sam who was watching a documentary on whales along with Cas.

Sam was a little better after the two days off they had. He had slept the whole time without any nightmares, he ate, and he hadn’t had a panic attack the whole time they were there. Still, with Sam, Dean was waiting for the other shoe to drop. That is why he wanted to get it over with so he didn’t need to worry about the bastards and take care of Sam the way he deserved to be taken care of.

He caught Castiel’s eye and gave a little nod. Cas and Dean had talked the day in the Impala about Mandy. He asked the angel if he was able to stay with Sam—the last time he left Sam alone still in his mind—while Dean was out asking Mandy questions. He didn’t want to leave Sam alone in case something happened and he also didn’t want him to know about Dean talking to Mandy. Not with Sam being so opposed to Dean killing Fred and his _friends_.

Castiel had asked Dean that if it wouldn’t be better to let it go if Sam didn’t want Dean going after his rapists. Dean had glared at him because he had asked himself the same question, but he couldn’t. There was a threat to his baby brother and he had to take care of it as soon as possible. It was the only way he would feel peace at mind and hopefully, give some to his brother as well. Dean knew was doing this for selfish reasons but, he couldn’t help himself. Sam turned his head to see Dean get up from his seat and stretch.

“Well, since we’re here I am going to go a town over. I waitress from this bar told me that there are darts, pool tables and a bunch of drunken idiots ready to lose money. Might as well go and line our wallets up with some cash.”

“You want me to go with you?” Sam asked but Dean could tell he said it out of habit and not because he wanted to go.

“Nah, I’ll be good.” He got his coat and walked out the door, “Don’t wait up, princess. You need you’re beauty sleep.” Dean heard Sam snort before he closed the door.

 

 

Dean had been at the bar for close to four hours before Mandy showed up. He had made a good amount of cash before she did come which was a good thing because it’d look suspicious to Sam if he hadn’t won anything.

Mandy was 5’5 with black hair and warm brown eyes. She was in her late thirties with a curvy body and an elven face. If Dean wasn’t here on a mission he would’ve hit on her and try to have a night in her bed. But, as it was, he had more important things to worry about and she was the key to getting his problems solved.

She sat down and asked the waitress for a glass shot and a bottle of tequila then tuned to Dean and said, “By the end of this conversation, I have a feeling both you and I are going to need it.”

Dean nodded and stayed there staring at her while she drank three shots of tequila.

“So,” she started, “you’re the infamous Dean Winchester.  It’s always nice to meet a friend of Bobby Singer. He saved my life, you know. He used to talk about you Winchesters all the time.”

“Really, that’s funny, because he never mentioned you before. Hell, up to a few months ago I didn’t even know you existed.”

“Yeah,” she said with a chuckle, “well, Bobby knew that I didn’t like to announce my existence. It caused way too much problems to me.” She took another shot of tequila.

They stayed there for a few moments and Dean couldn’t take it anymore, he opened his mouth to ask the questions.

“Before you start, I know, okay? I know Fred and his sick, fucked up ways. And… I can just imagine what he did to Sam.” She took a deep breath, almost like she was trying to get courage for whatever she was going to say.

“For you to get back at Fred I’m going to have to go to the beginning and honestly, I think the only way I can talk about him is to get some liquid courage going through my system,” she took a deep breath and said, “so, let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

 

Castiel pretended to watch the television while really paying attention to one Sam Winchester per his brother’s request. Of course, Sam was so lost in thought that the angel would bet his sword that even if he did stare at Sam openly he wouldn’t notice. Inattentiveness was rare for a Winchester what with the profession they had. Not paying attention could get one kill.

Or maybe he felt safe with Castiel in the room; he doubted that. More likely than not, Sam was remembering all of the heinous acts that were committed on him and his body. That worried Castiel.

He may not truly understand humans but he has watched them since they got up to walk on two legs. He knew that when a human didn’t let go some way or another the trauma that they went through, it could stay and fester. It wouldn’t be physical but their mind, their spirit, and more worrisome, their soul could get damaged beyond repair. Castiel inwardly frowned at his own thoughts.

Sam was strong, it is true but, there is only so much a human could take. He could still remember when he took Sam’s madness after he had nearly killed the youngest Winchester by breaking down the wall. It had been strong enough to bring Castiel down to his knees, yet Sam had…endured.

He had endured torture, hell, heaven, the Devil, and the strongest angel to ever walk this Universe; he had survived. Even with all of what he had survived, but now, Sam was falling apart with what those so called humans had done to him. There was a human saying, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,’ and most of the time that was true. But there was a limit and Sam was _beyond_ stretched from any limit Castiel has ever seen and will probably ever see any human have. He was surprised Sam hadn’t ended up worse than he was.

Castiel remembered when Sam’s soul got brought back from the Cage. It had been mangled, practically destroyed, yet it stilled shone brighter than any soul the Angel had seen. It was still white and pure with no hints of darkness coming off of it unlike Dean’s when he had pulled out of hell. Sam, the one person the angel would understand embracing darkness, hadn’t. The boy with the demon blood—the man who saved the world.

Now, in the present, Castiel could see Sam’s soul diminishing and it worried him. Every second he could see that bright soul’s light getting dimmer and dimmer. When Dean was around it got a bit brighter and stayed steady but, when Sam’s older brother was gone it would began to diminish and falter again. He hadn’t told Dean about this.  

 Castiel had been tempted to in the hopes that it would deter the older Winchester to give up his need to exact vengeance and would take care of his younger brother. He didn’t know why he didn’t inform Dean about the state of Sam’s soul but he felt it would be wrong and somehow violate Sam’s trust.

He got drawn out of his thoughts as Sam stretched his arms. He got up and went to the bathroom with a change of clothes. He came back out and told Castiel he, “Was going to hit the sack but to keep watching T.V if he wanted.”

Castiel gave a nod of acknowledgement and turned his eyes back to the documentary about honey bees. He waited a while until he was sure Sam was asleep and then he turned off the television and went to stand over Sam. He put two fingers on Sam’s head and used his grace to make sure Sam would be free of nightmares that night.

He had been doing that for the last three days hoping Sam could get more rest without the bad memories and nightmares cropping up while he was vulnerable in his sleep. He did this in the hopes that Sam could feel better rested so he could have a better chance of battling his inner demons (no pun intended) during the day. Of course, Castiel couldn’t keep doing this because it meant repressing all the bad things and though the Winchesters loved to use that method to avoid all of the horrors that has happened to them, this time around that trick wouldn’t help Sam.

 It would just destroy him quicker in the inside. If he didn’t find a way to talk about it and let go, to forgive himself as he believed he was responsible, he could wither away and never be the same again. Castiel didn’t want that; Sam was his friend and after everything he had done he deserved better. So the angel has decided he would help however he could. 

He knew the Winchesters and they did _not_ about their feelings and experiences unless if they were really drunk or dying and it drove Castiel up the wall. He would stay here and help however he could. He felt responsible for what he did to Sam. Maybe if he had never broken that wall down, Sam would be better able to deal with this. At the same time, he hoped the two brothers would figure out how to help each other out so they could both heal…and he hoped it happened before it was too late.

 It was two in the morning and Dean had just dropped Mandy off to her motel room. She had been extremely drunk and Dean wished he could be the same way but, he had to drive. Luckily, Mandy had just been a block away. She had told him she didn’t drive to the bar because she knew she would be, “so drunk that she forgot how to even walk let alone drive.”

* * *

 

So Dean gave her a ride and he digested everything he had been told today. God, he wished he could get drink himself to oblivion, too. He was disgusted that he doubted all the bleach in the world could scrub his mind free of what he had learned today. Mandy and Fred were siblings but, she despised him and with good reason.

Mandy herself had been a product of rape. Her _father_ , Chris, had forced himself on her mother. Mandy’s mother, Carmen, had been able to run away but a few years later, he had found her. Carmen had died under suspicious circumstances but Chris had never been suspected.

Mandy said she knew differently. Unfortunately, she couldn’t prove anything so Chris had been given custody. That’s when her nightmare started. She had been nine the first time her father had raped her. Fred being older than her, fourteen at the time, had also joined in a few days later. It had gone from bad to worst from there. Chris would invite other friends over to use Mandy however they pleased. She was prostituted to them and abused sexually, mentally and physically. She was raped by her only family and then made fun of.

On top of that she had to watch when her father and brother would bring other people—both male and female—and use them the same way she was used. After Chris got bored with those people she never saw them again. She had hoped they would be let go, alive but, she knew better.

What’s worse, Chris came from a long line of hunters. She had been used as bait for her father’s hunts. Sometimes, her father would capture unsuspecting monsters and did his sick perversions on them. He would torture and rape the unfortunate creatures and then give them a slow death. Dean was all about hunting and killing monsters, but raping, and torturing for no reason, made him sick to his stomach. When Mandy was seventeen she had gotten enough courage to run away.

Somewhere along the way, before she had ran away, she had met Bobby Singer. Actually, because of Bobby she was free of that monster of a father. Both Bobby and Chris had been on the same hunt and they had teamed up. Then Chris had taken Bobby home and offered his daughter up.

Bobby had gotten furious. He asked Mandy to come with him that night he was leaving. She immediately said yes but her father had found out. Chris was going to kill Bobby but, the old grisly hunter had been quicker. He killed Chris and helped Mandy start anew. Of course, Bobby hadn’t known about Fred at the time.

After a few years, Mandy had gotten a job as a bartender and that was when Fred found her. He had raped her and kidnapped her. She later called Bobby hysterical and he found her a few days later. Mandy had asked Bobby not to kill her brother; even she didn’t know why she asked that. So Bobby didn’t. Instead, he threatened Fred and Fred had been smart enough to consider that warning. Mandy hadn’t heard from Fred for so long. She was so terrified of what her brother could’ve done to Sam.  

“Sam’s so sweet. The type of person Fred loves to corrupt and torment. You have to believe me I would _never_ have sent Sam to him! I don’t even know how he found out about him,” she wailed.

Dean’s blood had been boiling by this point, “Please, can you tell me where to find him?”

She sobbed and took out a piece of paper with an address written on it. Fred had inherited a house in the middle of nowhere. It was about three hours away from Omaha and the closest neighbors were five miles away, the perfect place for him to do his sick perversions.

“Please, if you go after him, be careful. He’s…he’s awful. Even now I’m terrified of him and I never got the courage to confront him and now…Sam is the one who paid for it and for that I am truly sorry.”

“Hey, it isn’t your fault, its Fred’s. I don’t blame you and I’m one hundred percent sure Sam doesn’t either.”

“Thanks, please tell Sam to call me and tell him I am so sorry,” she told him with a sob.

So now here Dean was, driving towards his little brother and formulating the best way to make that sick bastards last few days on Earth the worst he had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I finished this chapter. I hope it was okay. This is the first time I have ever written in Castiel’s POV and I hope it’s okay. As for Fred, he’s about to find out why Dean’s brother should never be touched. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any recognizable characters. They belong to their rightful owners. Some canon parts from Citizen Fang (8x09)  
> Enjoy.

Things have been a little wonky lately. First, Cas declared that he was going to be a hunter and if that wasn’t enough they had to deal cartoon shit in the real world. Then he found out that the cause of it was an old family friend, Fred Jones, a psychokinetic, was being used by a greedy, fucked up bastard. They dealt with it and Castiel decided to stay with their old friend and watch over him.

Now, here they were a few days later and Dean was coming out of a diner towards the impala and he was no idea how to go after the bastards without tipping Sam off. When he got close to the Impala he could hear Sam was talking to someone.

“Yeah. And you're certain? You sure? Okay. Great. Just, uh, just hang tight till you hear from me, okay?”

Dean got into the car and whispered loudly, “Who is it?”

Sam put up a finger to show Dean to hold on a sec and continued talking on the phone. Well, that piqued Dean’s curiosity. A moment later, Sam hung up the phone with a frustrated sigh.

“We got to get.” Dean looked down at the tray of food he had.

“Can I at least finish my burger?”

“We got a vamp kill, Dean—Carencro, Louisiana.”

“Huh. It's been a while since I've had some étouffée. Who's the source?”

“Martin Creaser.”

Dean paused for a while and turned to look at Sam. He was sure he had heard his brother say Martin Creaser, the guy from the loony bin.

“Sorry—for a minute there, I thought you said _Martin_ Creaser.” Sam stared at Dean with a pointed look, “Crazy Martin from the loony bin?”

“Glendale Springs discharged him last month.”

“And? Shouldn't he be assembling toys in a padded room? What's he doing back on the job?”

“I asked him,” Sam turned away from Dean when he said that.

“You what?” Sometimes, Dean really wanted to throttle Sam.

“Look, he called me when he got out, okay, asked if I had anything for him that might help him ease back into the game. He seemed okay—mostly—so I said yes. I've had him tracking Benny for the past week.”

Dean paused for a moment and with incredulity in his voice asked Sam, “You put "mostly okay" Martin on Benny? What is "mostly okay" doing hunting at all?”

“Not hunting, Dean—tracking. Observe and report only. I made that crystal clear.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that,” Dean exclaimed. Of all the bullshit things Sam had done…

“Really, Dean, you don't believe that? Benny's a vampire and any hunter worth his salt isn't gonna let one just walk around freely. So I had Martin keep tabs on him. And right now, it's looking like I made the right call.” He yelled at Dean, sounding exasperated of all things. Acting as if he didn’t put a hit out in the only friend and person (used in a loosely term) that helped him in purgatory.

“So Martin's saying Benny did this?”

“Yeah,” he answered. Dean thought about for a moment and decided to humor Sam. Besides it would be a good thing to check out just in case and if Sam was wrong…Well, he could maybe, possibly show Sam that Benny was one of the good guys. Maybe then, Sam can probably _try_ to get along with Benny.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If Benny's in Louisiana draining folks... we should look into it.” Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, and a little hopeful, at Dean. He started the engine and began driving to Louisiana.

OoOoOoOo

Dean pulled up to an old, decrypted looking brick building and they both got out of the car. They hadn’t done much talking on the way over to seeing Martin. Dean stayed silent, that way there was a less chance of grilling Sam for what he did. Sam probably stayed silent to make things less awkward. They both got out and went into the building. While they were going to where Martin was staying Dean could hear shouts and babies crying. ‘Great place to live,’ he thought sarcastically. Before Sam could knock on the door it was opened and there was Martin himself.

“You said look for an eruption. How's Mount Vesuvius?” Dean rolled his eyes, not even in the room and Martin is already exaggerating. They both entered the room, the dark, gloomy, depressing room that ‘mostly okay’ was staying at. Martin closed the door and went straight to talking.

“I got into town about a week ago. Up until last night, nothing. He's been clean.”

“Doing what?”

“Just minding his own business, working at the gumbo shack.”

“Benny’s working at the gumbo shack?” Huh, Dean never pictured Benny in that setting.

“Yeah, slinging hash, pouring coffee—the whole bit. And he may be Benny to you. Folks around here call him Roy.” Oh, geez, Benny had an alias. He must be up to no good. Instead of saying that out loud Dean asked him, “Martin, you sure you're running on a full charge?”

“Y-yeah. L-l-little s-shock therapy in the morning, and I-I'm,” he snapped his fingers, “good to go.” Great, there is a crazy, idiot keeping tabs on Benny. Dean should be happy that Martin hadn’t done anything stupid, yet. He almost felt like strangling Martin and throttling Sam for putting Crazy Martin on Benny’s tail. Dean turned to look at Sam with a ‘I told you so,’ and ‘you’re an idiot,’ look on his face.

Sam ignored him and told Martin, “Tell us what you saw last night.”

Of course the little brat would dismiss him and go straight to the point. ‘Anything to prove that Benny is the bad guy’, he thought to himself. Why couldn’t Sam leave well enough alone? Dean knew that it wasn’t Benny doing this. He trusted the man with his life. Shit, he trusted Benny with _Sam’s_ life and there are not many who are still alive that Dean could trust them with _that_ task.

“So, I followed him home, just like every night. He turned up a path. I hear a scream. I catch up. Then, boom—there he is. The old coot that Roy was eyeballing at the joint—vamped.” Martin’s hand suddenly came up with two fingers that he put on his throat to emphasize his point. Dean wasn’t buying it, though. There had to be another explanation of what is going on here.

“Wait, did you actually see Benny kill the guy or not?” Dean demanded.

“I saw enough.” That wasn’t good enough for Dean. He was going to hunt down someone who helped him then he wanted concrete proof.

“Well, then, how can you be sure it was Benny if you didn't actually see him do it?”

“B-b-because I saw Benny turn up the path, and then two seconds later, I trip over a body with its throat ripped,” Martin explained. “Look, man, you— you ever hear of Occam's Razor? ‘Keep it simple, stupid?’ It's not that complicated.” Now he just sounded desperate to Dean.

“There's a lot of holes, Martin,” he explained while sitting on the bed’s footboard.

“Holes, the only holes we should be looking at are in the vic's neck.”

He turned to Sam and asked him, “This sound like the Benny you know?”

“I don’t know Benny,” he answered back with a bite of belligerence in his voice. It surprised Dean. They’ve been getting along fine lately and he still held a little hope that Sam would back him up on this. He should’ve known that was a lost cause the moment Sam told Dean he had put Martin on Benny’s ass.

“The Benny you know? Say what?” He turned to Sam and questioned him with, “why am I getting the distinct impression that your brother is vouching for a vampire?”

“Guys let’s not argue,” Sam tried to placate Martin, looking a bit uncomfortable. Good.

“Nobody's arguing, but if this is Benny—and that’s a big _if_ —,”

“Oh, it’s him.” Martin argued back. Dean wondered where he could get a muzzle.

“I got history with the guy, okay? I'm not signing up for a witch hunt.” He turned to Sam and told him, “I owe him more than that.”

“What in God's great creation could a Winchester possibly owe a vampire? Am I hearing this right?” He screamed out loud.

“Look, until we get the facts, we stow the bloodlust and we work this case right, or we work it separately.”

“Doing it right would be separating his head from his shoulders.”

“I just need some time, Sammy,” he implored to his brother.

“Oh, yeah, let the fang take another life? I don't think so.” Dean wished he had a muzzle _and_ some tranquilizer. Martin was getting on his nerves with the nervous pacing and stuttering.

“How much time do you need?” Dean was surprised to hear Sam ask that but hid it. Then Martin had to stick his nose in.

“You're not actually considering this?”

Dean ignored him and answered Sam’s question, “Couple hours, tops.”

“And what if it turns out to be Benny?”

“Then it's Benny, and I'll deal with it!” He practically yelled at Sam. Sam looked a little taken aback and Dean took a deep breath so he could calm down. Mad at Sam or not, he was still a little fragile with all the crap he’s been going through with the past year.

“Couple hours, Dean. No more.”

“I'll be in touch,” Dean answered gruffly and walked out the door with Martin following him and protesting loudly; Dean ignored him and set out to find Benny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Sorry, for it mostly being quotes straight from the show but, it’s for a good reason ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any recognizable characters. They belong to their rightful owners. Some canon parts from Citizen Fang (8x09)  
> Enjoy.

Dean pulled up to Guidry’s Cajun Café, aka: Benny’s daytime (nighttime?) job. Dean enters and sits at the counter. A pretty brunette put a menu in front of Dean but he refused. He knew what he wanted the moment he walked in the Café and saw the beautiful thing in whole place; pie.

“Actually, I already know what I want.”

“Let me guess—gumbo?” She made it a statement more than a question.

Dean chuckled and then stated, “Was gonna be the gumbo till I saw…” Dean pointed and clicked his tongue, “…pie.”

“Well, the special's pecan.”

“'Course it is. Let's do that.” She nodded and walked away. Dean looked around and then saw some photos in front of him. In one of them it showed Benny and the girl looking at the camera, smiling. The waitress came back, empty handed and sighed.

“Bad news.”

“You're out of pecan. Story of my life,” why could he never get his pie? You’d think that with everything he’s done the Universe would at least give him pie. “Uh, that's all right. Maybe you can make it up to me. I'm actually looking for an old friend of mine. I heard he's kicking around these parts. His name's Roy.”

“Well, Roy works the night shift here. I mean, if we're talking about the same Roy.”

“Uh, yeah, he, uh, putts around in a—a beat up camper. Thing looks like a rolling death trap.”

Elizabeth gave a laugh, “Yeah, I thought I was the only one who gave him trouble over that piece of junk.”

Dean gave a chuckle and asked her, “You wouldn't happen to know where he's parking that thing these days, would you?”

“Well, he, uh, was parking it out back, but just called to tell me he's gone up the road to Mill Creek for a few days.”

“Okay. Uh, did he say why?”

“Oh... fishing, I think. He really deserves a break. He's been working doubles for the last two weeks straight.”

‘Fishing, my ass,’ Dean thought. As much as he hated to admit it, all of this _was_ Benny seem like the culprit. What if it was him that was killing people? If Benny had fallen off the wagon, as much as it pained Dean to even think it, he would have to take care of the problem. Dean took out a piece of paper and turned to the waitress.

“Um, listen, I, uh, I tell you what,” he wrote is number down, “If he pops up before I can find him, you do me a favor and just have him give me a buzz. Or...,” he slid the paper over to her, “...could just drop a dime yourself.”

“Sure thing…,” She picked up the paper to take a look at it, “…Dean”

Dean stood up, asking, “And, uh, you are…?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth. All right. Take a rain check on that pie.”

“Definitely,” she nodded.

Dean rapped his knuckles on the counter and walked out feeling Elizabeth’s eyes on her. When he was outside he called Benny. All he gets is he voicemail.

_Leave a message at the beep._

“Benny. I got a body here in Carencro with two holes in it, and I just found out you went fishing. Do I need to tell you what this looks like?” He hung up and went to go look for Benny.

OoOoOoOo

It took Dean a while but he finally found where Benny was parked. He hid as well as he could to observe what Benny was doing. What Dean saw almost had him cursing out loud, really loud. By the looks of it Benny was burying a body. A body that was bloody and mutilated. Dean closed his eyes.

‘Please let there be an explanation for this. I can’t lose another friend.’ He kept a watch on Benny. After Benny finished burying the stiff he watched Benny wash his hands. ‘Well, now’s a good as time as any,’ he sneaked behind Benny but before he could talk Benny beat him to it.

“It's not me, Dean.”

“Now which ‘me’ are we talking about—Benny or Roy?” Benny turned to face Dean; Dean was hiding a machete behind him in case things got ugly.

“I'm just trying to blend in.”

“Blend in?” right he was doing such a perfect job on that, “Who'd you plant, Benny?”

“Victim number two. If you're concerned about the missed calls, I didn't want to get you involved. Now... Want to safety that thing...” Benny put his hand on his machete, “...talk a little bit or what?” Dean took his machete out from behind his back. “I’m all ears,” he answered the vampire

“Rogue vamp. Came into the café a couple nights ago. Youngster goes by the name of Desmond. He, uh, he remembers me from the good old days.”

“The good old days,” Dean raised his eyebrows at that.

“I know it's hard to believe, but I haven't always been this cute and cuddly,” he gave wry smile before continuing. “He's chasing a memory, Dean. That's all. He's crewing up a new nest. He's hoping I can give him some cred. I told him no.” Dean looked at Benny’s face and expressions while he told Dean all of this; Dean believed him.

“All right. So far, so good. Let's get to the part about the blood.” Please say there’s more and Benny didn’t do the killings. Dean was really hoping for that.

“Didn't want to take no for an answer. He's trying to roust me out, leaving dead bodies in my wake till I sign up. Two bodies in two days. No amateur is gonna kick me out of my hometown, Dean. Not this time.”

“Hometown? You grew up here?” Benny nodded yes. Huh, should’ve guessed.

“Born and bred. With Andrea gone and you hunting again, seemed like the right time for a homecoming—you two being the only ones who keep all my ducks in a row. Went back to my old job at the café. I even found someone to hold myself accountable to. Best kind of someone, Dean, family.”

Family. Dean knew how that work, his mind going to Sam. It didn’t take much for Dean to figure out who he was talking about. “Elizabeth.”

Dean walked a few steps away from Benny and sheathed his machete. Huh, family. Wait, how was Elizabeth family to Benny? He didn’t have to wonder long because Benny said, “My great-granddaughter.”

“Really?” Dean made a face, still turned away from Benny. Well, there goes Dean’s plan to romance her up.

“Now, hold it, now. You didn't…”

“Uh, no,” not that he hadn’t thought about it but no way in hell he was saying that to his vampire friend. “Does she know?” he asked.

“No. No, as far as she's concerned, I was just another drifter. I'd like to keep it that way. It's been tough walking the line here after all those years in Purgatory not having to deal with the hunger. But Elizabeth... She keeps me honest. I finally feel like I got a handle on this thing.”

“Handle on things?” he asked, incredulous, “Benny, you've got two stiffs on your hands and two hunters on your ass.”

“Oh, please. The half-wit who found me at the café? I'll take my chances with him,” oh, if only it _was_ just Martin, but it wasn’t.

“That half-wit was sent by my brother, and trust me—my brother's not someone you want to mess with.” He tried to explain to the vampire. Shit, he was half tempted to tell him how Sammy killed a vampire with just razor wire.

“I don't have time to worry about them, Dean. I didn't think Desmond had an ounce of steel in his spine, but I was wrong about that. So now I'm gonna do what I should have done two days ago, which is put him back where he belongs.”

“You know there's only one way to do that, right? And that is for you to sit on the sideline while I convince Sam and Martin to go after Desmond. They see you out there, they don't care if you're gonna be collecting for the March of Dimes. They are gonna slice first and ask questions later. You know that!” Dean tried to convince Benny because, God, he didn’t want his friend to be killed by his brother over prejudice and misunderstandings.

“You really think they'll go for that?” He asked. Dean sighed. He would have to _make_ them agree with him.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Martin practically yelled. Dean rolled his eyes; it was either that or he punched Martin, “I follow your boy... down a freaking path and trip over fresh vamp kill, and then you practically catch him in the act...” Martin shouted while taking out an ice cube tray from the freezer. “...of burying a second body, and you're still taking his side?”

Dean wanted to sigh, roll his eyes and pummel Martin if he didn’t shut up soon and then explained, “Vampires pick people off from the outskirts of town, okay?”

“Pfffft!” he exclaimed while violently stabbing a fork to loosen the ice cubes; Dean had a feeling Martin was imagining it was Benny…or Dean. He continued to explain, “Not in the cafés that they work in with their great-grandkids. In fact, killing any human—it’s not his style.”

“Not his style? Not his style?” Martin shouted, _again._ Dean was kinda happy for all the ruckus in the other rooms now. Then, Sam decided to chime in, to take Martin’s side.

“Listen, Dean, we came here on a dead body. You asked for some time, and now there's another dead body. Are we just going on trust here?” From his peripheral vision, Dean could see Martin taking a sip of his drink.

Dean looked straight at Sam’s eyes and answered, “Yes.”

Sam put on a face of incredulity before saying, “Okay. Because we've killed for a lot less, and you know how these things turn out for us.”

“Yes, I do—to well. In fact, every relationship I have ever had has gone to crap at some point,” he should really stop now because he was getting pissed off of Sam’s inability to trust _him_ at least. But like the idiot with the foot in his mouth that he was he didn’t and continued, “But the one thing I can say about Benny—he has _never_ let me down.”

Sam gave Dean a wounded look that he quickly covered up with anger, still Dean noticed it.

“Huh. Well, good on you, Dean. Must feel great finally finding someone you can trust after all these years.”

Shit, shit, _shit,_ why the fuck would he say that? He wanted Sam to trust him and depend on him and here he was hurting his little brother more. Still, if it got Sam to not go after Benny, at least for the moment, he’ll go along with it and hopefully, _hopefully,_ he can make things right with Sam later. He looked down and with resolve, raised his head and with confidence he voiced, “All I'm saying is that Benny is innocent.”

Sam stood up, “No, you’re too close to this.”

“You're not gonna find him. And if you do, I'm gonna tell you this. You'll be lucky to get out alive. And _you_ ,” he pointed a finger at Martin, “you go with him, you're a dead man—period.”

“These are innocent lives we're talking about, Dean. And you're willing to risk that on Benny's word alone?” Sam shouted at Dean but the hurt, wounded expression was back. Fuck, how was this going to affect Sam? Still he stood by his statements and declared, “Damn right I am.”

Dean turned around to come face-to-face to Martin’s ugly mug. Then he raised his fist and before Dean could react he was hit and was unconscious before he hit the floor.

 

 

Dean woke up to a pounding head and confused. What the fuck happened? Then he remembered Martin hitting him, hard.

“That Son of a Bitch, I’m going to kill him!”

Dean riffled throw his pockets until he found the paper clip he always carried with him and got to work on the handcuffs that had him tied to the radiator. “Come on.”

The handcuffs came free after a second or two and he looked for his cellphone which was conveniently left on the bed. He phones Benny and the first thing he hears is, “What'd they say?”

He had found a cloth while the phone on the other end rang and proceeded to wipe neck and chest of the blood.

“They didn't go for it. They're on their way to you. I'd get scarce.”

Benny answered with, “No offense, Dean, but your little brother doesn't exactly put chills up my spine.”

“Benny, listen to me. Do not underestimate my little brother, okay? He can and _will_ kill you given the chance.” What was today? ‘Ignore Dean’s warnings and do anything I fucking want?’ day. He was trying to keep both Benny and Sammy alive but they seemed _determined_ to find and kill each other. And, as much as it pained Dean and as unlikely as it was, if Benny so much as put a hand on Sam, he would have to kill his friend himself.

Finally, Benny relented with a, “All right. So, what now?”

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief and told Benny, “I go find Desmond.”

Then he heard Benny say, “You take me with.”

Dean knew it was a lost cause but he still tried to explain, “Hey, I just told you—the best thing you can do is lie low.” Dean had just gotten out of the room and was walking down the hall.

“That ain't gonna work this time, bub. You take me with, or I don't tell you where he is,” Dean paused at that statement.

“You know where he is?”

“He said he's not gonna stop the killing till I join his little nest. Two bodies is enough. I told him I'm in.”

Dean was out of the building now and walking towards the Impala, “Benny.”

“Dean this is _my_ fight. Are you in or are you out?”

Dean sighed and relented, “I’m in.”

He hung up the phone and got into the car. What he was going to do next was so wrong that he knew he was going to hell for it, again. He picked up his phone again and switched a burner so he could send Sam a text message as Amelia Richardson:

_Sam, I need your help_

_Come quick_

Yep he was definitely going to burn for this but there’s no way in hell Dean was going to have Sam here so he could fight with Benny and possible get hurt, or worst killed. Dean threw his phone on the passenger seat, started the car and drove towards his destination, hoping he will be able to fix this when everything was said and done.

OoOoOoOo

Dean pulled up by a ship yard; friggin’ vampirates, man. He parked by Benny who was holding a machete. Dean got out of the Impala and went to the trunk to pull out one himself. What’s a vampire fight without a few machetes?

“This the place, huh? So, what's the plan? I hang back while you guys do some trust falls and binge-drinking?” He took out a syringe of dead men’s blood and put it in his pocket. Now, he was fully equipped to fight blood sucking assholes.

“Man, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you have an extremely low opinion of us vamps.”

“Pssh,” he scoffed, “Call it healthy skepticism.”

Both Dean and Benny enter into the shipyard’s building and look around. Dean gave a little nod and Benny spilt off towards another direction while Dean went to another. He was looking around with his flashlight able to see his breath. He feels more than sees a something behind him. He turned around to flash the light there but saw no one. Doesn’t mean there _isn’t_ anyone in the room with him, though.

He walked further into the room and felt his adrenaline pumping. His instincts from purgatory come to the forefront and feels hyperaware of his surroundings. He was so aware that he felt someone drop behind him and just when he was about to be attack he turns around and swings his machete. Unfortunately, he misses and the vamp sends Dean flying. Then he straddled Dean. ‘Ugh, why is it always ugly monsters that seem to get on top of him? Why can’t it be a hot buxom blonde?

The vampire got the flaps of Dean’s jacket and pulled him up before thumping him down again. Dean could see his fangs were out and he had a feeling the vamp was thirsty.

“Benny never told me he was bringing a friend.”

Always needing to have the last word, he retorted, “You're not gonna talk a lot, are you?” Dean reached for the dead men’s blood and continued with his retort, “I have been dealing with crazy…All day.”

Dean finally took the syringe out and tried to jab Desmond with it but before he could the vampire got a hold of his hand, he squeezed so hard that the syringe broke. Dean groaned from the pain. Then Desmond forced Dean’s hand down and slashed at his neck with a fingernail, cutting him. If that wasn’t bad enough it decided to lick his fingers covered in Dean’s blood. Great, he just gave the vampire an appetizer. Just as he snarls and lunges for Dean’s neck, Benny pulls Desmond upright and decapitates him.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, “Son of a… It took you long enough.”

“You’ve lost a step there friend,” Dean clasped the hand offered to him and let Benny help pull him up, “You need to lay off the junk food.”

Like hell he will. He touched the on his neck and winced, “Aah!” he exclaimed out loud.

Dean looked at Benny and he was instantly on the alert. Benny’s eyes were narrowed and his lips were twitching. He looked at Dean’s neck as if he was a starving man who walked into an all you can eat buffet.

“You okay?” Dean asked, hoping to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. Benny raised his eyes at Dean’s and said, “I’m fine.” Before turning his back on Dean and slowly walking away. ‘Man, I hope I didn’t make a mistake here,’ he thought to himself.

Dean walked out of the building and went to the Impala, looking for a rag or something to clean the blood off his neck with. When he found one he went over to where Benny was standing.

“My life here is over, isn't it?” Benny asked.

“Afraid so. Once word gets out... The machete swingers that'll come for you... You can't take them all. It's impossible. And even if you could...”

“We’d have a problem.” Dean didn’t say anything. He just gave Benny a grim expression; Benny looked away from Dean when he did. Dean wished he could tell Benny to stay and not worry. That everything would be fine, but he wouldn’t lie to his friend that way and instead told him.

“Guys like us, we don't get a home. We don't get family.”

“You got Sam.” Dean paused at that and looked down. Did he even still have Sam? With what he did earlier, he greatly doubted it but he didn’t dwell on it for too long.

“Yeah, Benny, you got to go deep underground, where nobody knows who you are.”

“Yeah,” he turned to look at Dean and with a somber voice he said, “I got one last thing I got to do.” Benny walked away from Dean and Dean stood there, feeling like shit.

OoOoOoOo

A few minutes later Dean and Benny were at the café where Elizabeth worked. They were both watching her, Benny with a sad smile and Dean with a somber expression on his face. Even though it hurt Dean to say, he told Benny, “Time to go buddy.”

Benny gave one last smile towards the café and then he held out his hand towards Dean. Dean took it.

“Thanks for not giving up on me, brother.”

“Yeah, well, give me a reason to.”

Benny gives Dean a pat on the back before he walks toward his car. Dean watched as Benny drove away, raising his hand for one last farewell, not sure when he would see his friend again. When Benny’s car was out of sight Dean got into his to hit the road. But first, he had a few things to clear out with Martin.

Dean calls Martin’s phone and after a few rings he hears a, “Hey, Dean.”

“Look, I'm just calling to let you know that the situation is resolved. Benny was not lying. There was another vamp, and we ganked him—together.” He couldn’t help but be a bit smug; Martin had gotten on his nerves since they started this job.

“Oh. That's good, Dean,” he answered, his voice was laced with a hint of sarcasm. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, shut up and listen to me. Benny's long gone, and he won't be coming back, ever. So for your own sake, do not follow him. Are we clear?”

“You don't have to worry about me, Dean. I'm long gone, too.”

Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“Find a new line of work.” Dean hung up on Martin, feeling a little better after that jib he gave. Seemed things were getting better. Now all he had to do was face Sam.

 

A while later, Dean was driving down the road, listening to Steve Earle’s ‘Feel Alright’, Dean was tapping the steering wheel on time to the music. Dean was feeling good. Despite all the bad things that happened at least everybody but the bad guy came out of this little fiasco alive.

Suddenly, his phone rang and he picked up, “Yeah?”

He vaguely heard a woman’s voice on the other line. “H-hang on a second,” he turned the volume to the music down and asked, “Elizabeth?”

“Y-you told me to call you if I saw... him.”

A feeling of dread went down Dean’s spine while he asked, “What do you mean? Roy? Is—is there right now? Elizabeth, what's going on?”

Elizabeth’s voice broke some as she pleaded for Dean to, “just come.”

Dean did a 180 and accelerated the Impala back to where they had just come from. When Dean got there Elizabeth was sitting outside on the steps of the café. He stopped the car in front of her and got out. He could see that she was really shaken up; that she had been crying. Her hands were shaking and instead of saying anything she pointed a finger inside the café. Dean saw that she had a cut on her neck so he took out a towel and holds up to her wound. He then puts his hand on her shoulder to try to comfort her a bit before walking inside.

When he walked inside the first thing he spotted was the pool of blood. He looked around and saw chairs and tables thrown all over the place, more blood in front of him. Basically, it looked as if a blood bath had happened. He followed the trail of blood and saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind the counter. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up, thinking the worst had happened to Benny. When he could actually see the body, he felt guilty, because it wasn’t Benny, it was Martin. Crazy Martin who had his throat ripped out.

OoOoOoOo

A while later Dean was driving the Impala when he heard a phone ring. He looked around until he pinpointed the ringing in the glove compartment. The caller ID had ‘Sam Calling’ flashing at him. He answered, “Sammy?”

He heard a chuckle and Sam then he replied,“ ‘Sam, I need your help. Come quick.’ Nice one. Swapping Amelia's phone out with a burner, sending a distress signal,” Sam scoffed into the phone, “You got me good. When did you do that?” Dean could tell Sam was suppressing his emotions. Most likely anger, but he tried to ignore it and not feel guilty.

“While back, in case I needed it. Looks like I made the right call. So, did you see her?”

“Yeah, yeah, I saw her,” Sam cleared his throat, “And she's doing just fine. But, of course, you know that,” he quipped back at Dean.

“Actually, I didn't. I _did_ know it was the only way to get you to lay off.” Sam scoffed again and asked.

“So, is it done?”

“Yeah, it's done.” Please leave it at there.

“Any casualties?” Great, he had to ask that, didn’t he? Dean felt his voice tightened up when he answered Sam.

“Martin.” Sam was silent on the phone for a second; Dean could almost see Sam blaming himself for Martin death. It’s not as if the asshole didn’t deserve it, though. Still, Sam was a sensitive kid and always seemed to like to put all the blame on himself.

“Was it Benny?”

“He had it coming, Sam. I’ll tell you what happened.”

“I-I _know_ what happened, Dean.” Sam shouted into the phone. He sounded so hurt and angry.

“Sam, could you please, just…listen to me please?” The last thing Dean heard was Sam breath out real loudly and then he hung up.

“Damn it,” he said out loud. He really fucked this one over. Now he had a pissed off Sam that wasn’t speaking to him and Martin’s body on his hand. Things just went from bad to worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, two chapters in one day. Hope you liked it, I’m about to get to the real good stuff next. 
> 
> Review if you can, always nice to hear from my readers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally gets to some torturing. Warning for torture. Proceed with caution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any recognizable characters.  
> Trigger Warnings: Mention of past rape, torture scenes, self-harm, very crude and obscene language and suicidal thoughts/tendencies. I might have gone a little ballistic with the torture scenes so please tell me if I should tone it down.  
> Dean is a bit of an asshole to Sam in this chapter.  
> Some canon parts from Torn and Frayed (8x10)

Dean had to haul ass to Kermit, Texas to find Sam. When he got to where Sam was staying, GPS on phones really are handy, he asked at the counter for his room number. He went to where Sam was roomed and knocked on his door, wondering if Sam was even going to let Dean talk to him.

Sam opens the door, he didn’t even have locked, the fuck? He taught the kid better than that. When he sees Dean he partly closed the door, looking angry, but worst, also looking hurt. Sam seemed to have second thoughts of shutting the door on Dean’s face and opened it completely to let Dean in.

“Who did you expect?” Dean asked, trying to make the situation lighter.

“Long drive?”

“Well, I wouldn't have had to make it if you hadn't have hung up on me.”

“Yeah, well, I heard all I needed to hear.” For some reason, Sam saying that got Dean mad. Sam wasn’t even giving him a chance to explain what happened. He knew he should keep his mouth shut but he couldn’t

“No, you heard whatyou _wanted_ to hear. I told you Benny wasn't killing. Hell, I watched him end the fang banger that was.”

“How about Martin? How did he end that?” He asked, with anger coloring his voice.

“Stupid—just like I said it would. Crazy son of a bitch didn't give Benny a choice. It was self-defense.”

“Seriously, Dean,” Sam voiced with disbelief in his tone and anger and betrayal showing on his face. Damn, Dean was fucked, “That's the story you're going with? That the vampire was the real victim here?” Sam got closer to Dean. He felt his anger rising again with every word Sam said. Dean swore that talking to Sam right now was making his emotions go through a roller coaster ride.

“Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay? There was a time when that actually meant something.”

“Yeah, yeah. No kidding.” Sam said, giving Dean a pointed look.

“What does that mean?”

Sam’s whole body language seemed to flinch and then he gave Dean a wounded expression. Oh, no, Dean was not falling for that right now. He was getting angrier by the minute and he swore every bad emotion he’s been trying to repress these past few weeks were coming up tenfold.

“You think this is just about Benny?” His voice sounded so sad when he asked Dean that question.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Dean couldn’t really think past his anger and didn’t get Sam’s meaning. If he would just say it instead of playing coy he wouldn’t be confused about Sam’s meanings. _Careful,_ a voice in the back of his head whispered, _you’ve already fucked up, you don’t want to make it worst. Calm the hell down now before you say or do something stupid._ Dean knew he should be listening to that voice but he kept staring at Sam, his anger rising, rising.

“What the hell do you think I'm talking about?” Suddenly, it clicked.

“Amelia,” Seriously, that why he was being prissy, “Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to—to…”

“You needed me to what, to tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica…” Sam’s voice cracked a little over Jessica’s name, “what happened to... everybody that we care about might have happened to her?” Damn if those questions didn’t damper Dean’s anger and made him feel like the fucking scum of the Earth. He knew it was wrong what he had done but he couldn’t have Sam and Benny going at each other’s throats. What if they have gotten hurt? Worse, what if Sam had gotten killed?

“You were gonna kill Benny. What was I supposed to do?” His voice sounded tired to his own ears.

Sam turned to look at Dean and with a pleading expression he asked Dean “Is that what we are? You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?” He seemed to want to break down, the last question coming sorrowful.

“What do you want to hear, Sammy? That I was wrong? I was wrong, okay. But if you'd have just heard me out, if you'd have trusted me, all of this could have been avoided.”

For some reason Sam snapped his head up suddenly and anger returned to his expression, “You didn't want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can't do that!” He shouted at Dean.

“Right, okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now? You want to go find Benny and kill him? He was there for me when I needed him, Sam!”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t have done what you did. I thought I had lost Amelia.” Dean could feel the blood pumping through his veins. Okay, calm down count to ten.

“Well, all I’m saying is if you had trusted me, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Seriously, Dean, you’re going to bring that up. For me to trust in your judgment because last I remembered I asked you the same for Amy and you still went and killed her!” He yelled at Dean, “Even putting that aside, haven’t you learned anything from _my_ mistakes or have you forgotten Ruby?” How the fuck would Dean forget that bitch? She’s the reason most of shit in their life was there to begin with. Still, Dean did not like the fact that Sam was comparing Ruby to Benny. This is a whole completely different story.

“You know, Sam, it seems to me as if you’re projecting _your_ inability to trust the right people onto me. I trust Benny, okay? Just because you’re unable find good people to trust doesn’t mean I can’t!” Dean felt his anger mounting with every word he said, “Maybe, just maybe, you’re the one who needs to work on who you trust. Then you wouldn’t have fallen into Ruby’s trap to start the Apocalypse or, hmm, I don’t know, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten captured and fucked for a whole month leaving me to clean up your mess, again! Ever thought of that?” He yelled.

When he finished his rant the words that he had just shouted at Sam caught up to him. Oh, FUCK! Sam’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, he looked hurt, betrayed and disgusted all at once.

“Sam, I’m sorry, I…” he tried to apologize before Sam pushed him, hard.

“Get out,” he whispered.

“Sam, wait I’m sorr--”

“I said get the fuck _OUT, now_!” He screamed at Dean. There was a pounding on the wall and someone telling them to ‘shut up.’

“Sam,” he tried to get a hold of his brother but Sam flinched away in fear. That broke Dean’s heart even more and had him hitting himself in his mind. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID, why would you say that shit?_ What the fuck did he do? He didn’t have to say that shit, especially since it was fresh in Sam’s mind. Not to mention that he just told his brother it was _his_ fault that he had gotten raped.

“Just, get out, please,” Sam begged, looking at Dean with unshed tears in his eyes. Dean didn’t know how to make this better so he walked towards the door. He put his hand on the door knob and turned to Sam, who had his back at him, and tried to apologize one last time, “Sam, really, I’m so sorry.”

Sam raised his head to look up at the ceiling and Dean could see tears rolling down his eyes.

“Just go, please.”

“I will, but Sam, please don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

Sam nodded and Dean walked out the room. When he closed the door behind him he punched the wall repeatedly until his knuckles were bleeding. He walked towards the Impala and got into the car. When he tried to get his phone out of his jacket, he hissed from the pain. Dean probably fractured one or two. Still, he had other things to worry about than his possibly broken knuckles. He went through his contact list before finding the name he wanted.

He waited for the other line to answer, hoping that the person he wanted would pick up. After a few tense rings he heard a gruff voice say, ‘Dean.’

“Cas, hey, I, uh…Man I fucked up big time. It’s Sam can you please come meet me up?”

* * *

 

Castiel felt like punching his friend. Of all the moronic things Dean has done this has to be the most idiotic, childish, thing he has ever done. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. Angels couldn’t get headaches but he believed one was trying to make its presence known.

“Let me just reiterate. You got mad at Sam for having someone keep a watch on Benny, which if it was any other vampire you know you probably would’ve done the same. Then lied to Sam and made him believe that the woman he loved was in danger or worst. Then to make matters worse the hunter, Martin, was killed by _Benny_ and you came here just to get mad at Sam and blame him for his rape. What is the matter with you?”

Dean was nursing his hand close to his chest. Castiel knew one knuckle was broken and another was fractured. He was going to heal it but, the angel was mad enough to make Dean wait a while longer.

“I know, okay? I know! I was an asshole and a fucktard! I didn’t even know I had said all that shit before it was too late and now, instead for being there for my little brother, I’ve added more shit on his already shitty, shit filled plate!” Dean yelled while pacing back in forth.

Castiel understood. Dean tended to let his mouth run when he was angry. He was distraught, that much was clear. Unfortunately, the damage had been done, so now Castiel had to be there for his friend, both of them.

“I will keep an eye on Sam, don’t worry.”

Dean visibly relaxed at Castiel’s reassurance, “Thanks Cas, I really owe you one.”

The angel nodded and asked, “What will you do while I’m with Sam?”

Castiel had his suspicions confirmed when he saw Dean’s eyes tightened, “I’m going to go hunting,” Dean growled out with a feral smile gracing his lips.

OoOoOoOo

After Castiel healed Dean’s hand, he went to check on Sam invisibly. What he saw shocked him. Sam was sitting in a corner of the room with a bloody knife by him. His arms were littered with freshly made cuts. Sam was drinking straight from a bottle and taking pills at the same time. Castiel became visible.

“Sam, what have you done?” Sam looked up, startled.

“Cas, I was…It’s not what it looks like, I swear. I just…I wanna sleep and I took a few…” he motioned his hand in the general direction of the pills. Castiel stared at the cuts. Sam seemed to notice he had him and his cheeks got flushed with red.

“I just…” Sam shook his head and then let it hang. Sorrow and self-disgust were rolling out of Sam in waves.

“Sam,” he walked up to the young man, “how many pills have you taken?”

“I don’t…three…maybe five. I don’t really know,” he whispered.

Castiel helped Sam stand up and then he took him to the bathroom.

“Kneel by the toilet. I’m going to purge every last drop of alcohol and drugs you have taken. It will be…unpleasant.”

Sam gave a little nod. Castiel quickly put his hands on Sam and took out every toxin that was in Sam Winchester’s body. Like he said before hand, it wasn’t pleasant. Sam regurgitated every last drop of alcohol and drugs that was in his body. After a few minutes, Sam was dry heaving into the toilet while Castiel rubbed his back to help ease with the retching a little; he didn’t think it helped much.

Castiel helped Sam to the bed. Sam sat down and made no move to lie down to sleep. The younger Winchester hung his head down; he seemed ashamed to look at Castiel straight on.

“Thanks Cas,” he whispered, his voice cracking after all the vomiting he did.

“No problem,” he remained silent for a moment before asking, “Do you wish to stay here or do you want to go to Rufus’ cabin? I know for a fact Dean won’t be there.”

“Don’t need a baby sitter,” he mumbled.

“No, you don’t, but you do need a friend.” Sam looked up, his eyes getting impossibly wide. I would’ve been comical if it didn’t hurt Castiel to seem that expression on the younger man’s face.

“Can…can you take me to the cabin, please?” he pleaded. Castiel put his fingers on Sam’s forehead and, without another word, flew to his new destination.

* * *

  

Dean drove for 14 hours straight to get to the address Mandy had given him. He had called her along the way and asked for the names of the people her brother would usually be around with.

“If you’re asking who else would join his sick games they would be: Joe Smith, Harold Laurens, and Billy Carlsen. They always would come over to my father’s place and take part of the rapes.”

Dean gave a feral smile; he had names. He was close to where Fred lived and he could just _feel_ the blood of those four bastards coating his hands. The back of Dean’s head whispered a warning; _Careful, you’re going down a dangerous path. Don’t lose your humanity killing monsters._

Dean ignored it. He let the dark side he kept locked up, the side he had under lock and key since he got out of hell, come out. That, combined with the side of purgatory that was still very prevalent, came out. Dean let it, he embraced it even. It was those two sides that would give his little brother, and himself, peace of mind. Besides, when torturing and killing monsters, one couldn’t help but become one, too.

OoOoOoOo

Dean almost thought that the little worn down path he was driving in would lead him nowhere. It was an hour before he saw the house he was looking for. It was so obscured by trees that he almost ran into it before he saw it. House was a bit of an understatement. It was more of a three-story A-frame house. Most of the front was covered in trees and it was painted green, white and brown to blend in with its surrounding.

So this was the place. The place his little brother got violated and tortured in the worst kind of way. The dark emotions that were simmering just underneath his skin came out in full force. His anger was so great that, instead of feeling out of control, he could think clearly. His anger was helping him. He was numbed from any other emotions except for anger, anger and hatred. He didn’t just bust into the house. No, if any of those bastards were around he was going to stealthy sneak behind them; they wouldn’t know what hit them until it was too late.

 

Dean stayed hidden for almost three hours. It was night now. It was cold, what with winter coming early this far up north but, strangely enough, he didn’t feel it. It seemed that hatred and revenge were enough to keep him warm. When it became clear that the house was empty, he got out of his hiding place and broke into the house.

Dean looked around the house, it was empty. The house itself had a very pleasant interior. It was painted beige and browns and there was comfortable, if not a little expensive, looking furniture. Nobody would guess the horrors that have gone in this house with just one look.  Dean walked quietly around the house just in case there was somebody there. He checked every room in the first floor before he determined that it was truly empty.

The last place he checked in was a study. It had a computer and a desk but two things caught Dean’s attention. One was a door. It was pad locked, had a chain on it and a few locks that were locked on the outside.

“ _In case you were wondering, it has a basement, a big basement that can doesn’t let any sound escape no matter how hard you scream and scream_.”

  The basement, the place where his brother had been locked and tortured in; Dean wanted nothing more than to get in there and tear the place apart. He wanted to destroy every last piece of evidence the place held then salt it and set it on fire.

 He turned away from the door and swept his gaze over the other thing that had gotten his attention. Monitors; there was a wall that had at ten monitors. He went over to them and turned it on. He almost got sick. They were security monitors that showed every corner of the basement. The basement seemed to be as big as the whole first floor of the house which was enormous. Dean could see clearly, in color no less, everything that was in the room. There was a bed that seemed to be bigger than a king size. There were chains on all the bedposts. Not only that, but there were several chains hanging from the ceiling over the bed and various other places. There was a wall that had chains, whips, cuffs, and other tortured device lined up in neat rows. There were several chests and cabinets scattered all over the room that Dean had to presume was full of more torture devices. There was a Saint Andrew’s cross, some type of sling, a sawhorse, stocks, a whipping bench and X-cross. There were so many other types of fucked up looking furniture that he had seen in his time in hell scattered all over the room.

That’s were Sam had been for a whole month. He had to stay there looking at a wall full of instruments used on him. He had to stay there and have his body manipulated and used on those torture devices. He was used as a real live sex doll and, used for others pleasures and amusements. If that wasn’t bad enough, these bastards had recorded it to watch his brother suffer over and over again. He saw a wall full of untitled DVD covers. He walked over to it and looked through them. They were catalogued in alphabetical order by last name. He got to the W’s and saw Winchester, S. There were fifteen of them; fifteen DVDs with his baby brother being tortured and raped in them. He took them all and went through the drawers of the desk until he found an address book. He took it with him and went outside. The moment he breathed in fresh air his stomach decided to spew everything out.

OoOoOoOo

Dean didn’t bother to book a motel room. He was a man with a mission and didn’t have time to sleep. He parked in a park in the middle of the night and took out his laptop. He put in the first DVD and watched as his brother was raped for the first time. He heard his little brother beg for it to stop. Sammy, his little brother, was begging to a monster that had no heart whatsoever.  He fast-forwarded. He saw his brother be humiliated, tied up, beaten, raped and tortured over and over again. When all was done, Dean felt something in him break.

He was beyond angry; he felt a cold fury passing through his whole veins. He felt vicious, he felt murderous but he also could think with a crystal clear clarity that would’ve frightened him if he stopped to analyze it. The faces of every last one of Sam’s tormentor were etched into Dean’s mind that he knew would be there even in the afterlife. He knew what had to be done. Dean took out the address book and thumbed the address that was under H. Laurens. Laurens lived just a few hours away from where he was. He had his first victim; he gave an inhuman grin that could’ve made demons blood run cold. He shifted the car into drive and drove towards his next destination.

* * *

 

Crowley didn’t scare easily but at the time he felt as if, not only his life was in danger, but his very existence. Dean Winchester stood in front of him and in that moment he felt that the hunter could’ve scared the shit out of legions of the his demons. He almost felt sorry for the bastards that were stupid enough to have hurt Sam. Crowley wondered if it would’ve been worth it.

“So, to make this clear, I play with these bastards and you _make_ sure that their souls end up in hell. They don’t end up here earth bound, they don’t go anywhere _but_ Hell.” Dean made it a command.

“Yes Squirrel, as per our agreement you get to toy with them and I get four new additions in my domain. I’ll even sweeten the pot by promising you that, as long as I’m King, they will never set a foot out of the deepest bowels of Hell.”

Dean seemed satisfied with Crowley’s statement and gave a little nod of dismissal, his eyes already straying to the lone cabin with the lights on. Any other time Crowley would’ve been annoyed with it but, at the moment, he didn’t want Winchester’s attention on him.

“By the way, Dean, as a show of good faith, I’ve decided to bring you some pressies,” he snapped his fingers and a demon gave him the bag of goodies and quickly stepped away, out of fear of Dean. Crowley needed to get bodyguards with more spines on them. “Now, being as you were Alastair’s most talented pupil, I’m going to assume you know how to use these babies.”

He gave Dean the bag. When Dean took it he looked inside and stilled for a second. When he looked up he had a twisted smile on his face that made Crowley want to haul ass out of the meat suit he was in. Yep, Crowley was feeling sorry for the bastards Dean was going after.

Dean ignored the demons Crowley left behind. They were there to inform the King of Hell when Dean was done; they would be waiting a while because Dean planned to take his sweet time. He decided not to sneak into the cabin; instead he went to the front door and knocked. He waited a moment until he heard somebody unlock the door. There he was, Harold Laurens. He was in his late to early fifties with graying red hair and as tall as Dean. He was wiry but Dean could tell he could hold himself in a fight. Not like it’ll help him today. Laurens gave him a one over and gave a lecherous grin.

“Can I help you?”

“Depends, you Harold Laurens.”

“Sure am, sweetie.”

Dean gave him a smile and told him, “I’m Dean Winchester.”

Before the man could react, Dean punched him and knocked him out. He stared down at the unconscious man before dragging him in the cabin. This was going to be fun.

OoOoOoOo

An hour later Harold started coming around, Dean put his phone down and watched as he roused. He gave a groan and seemed confused for a moment before his eyes widen in realization and then they looked around the room until they settled on Dean.

“Howdy, ‘bout time you woke up. Here I thought I was going to have to start the party without you. Don’t try to struggle; it’ll be useless. I learned how to tie knots from John Winchester and he was a great teacher and I was a good student.”

“Great, so you got me here, what do you want?”

“Well, I would love to see you burning in Hell for eternity but, seeing as I’m destined to go there, getting to you up here is just as good as it’ll get.”

“Look, is this about Sam? Because whatever he told you, it’s a lie. He came on to me, _begged_ me to fuck him.” Dean made sure that he his face was impassive, for some reason it seemed to spur the asshole on.

“I mean, at first I said no, but he kept insisting and insisting. Then he wanted to go to the harder stuff and I complied, even if it was against my better judgment.”

Dean decided to play along with the bastard’s game; it would be sweeter when he started carving the asshole’s flesh. He got up and walked up to him, using his bulk height to his advantage.

“Really, because Sam, he, uh, told me differently.”

“Well, he’s lying!”

Everything was silent for a moment then, without giving anything away, he smacked his captive across the face, busting his lip.

“Let’s pretend for just a minute that I would _ever_ believe you over my little brother’s word, I saw the videos,” he sneered. Dean got a sick kind of satisfaction when he saw the bastard’s face go white with blood lost.

“See, it took a while. Hell, longer than I would like to admit but, I figured it out. Then when Sam told me everything, well, you have no _idea_ how much I wanted to get my hands on you fucked, pieces of _shit._ I’m going to enjoy this.”

Dean went to the table and opened the bag Crowley had given him. It had a myriad of torture devices. All of them had been used by Dean in hell before and all of them hurt worse than anybody could conceive.

While he lined up the instruments in front of Harold, Dean kept chatting away, “You know, ironically enough, Sam is the sweetest, kindest kid you’ll ever get to meet. He doesn’t deal with demons. Well, that one time, wasn’t his fault, he was brainwashed. But, he hates dealing with anything demonic. Me on the other hand,” he gave a dark chuckle and picked up a knife, “I have no problems with using everything in my disposal. See, Sam, he went to Hell with the Devil and Michael to save the world, me I went to Hell for a different reason. And, let’s say, unlike Sam, I have tortured and I _have_ enjoyed it. _Craved_ it, even. So,” he walked up to the bound man, “let’s get started shall we?”

 

Half an hour later, Harold was littered with cuts all over his chest, face and arm. He was heaving heavily and Dean was wiping his hand of blood.

“That…all you got…bastard? You know, that brother of yours, he was a sweet piece of ass. Tight, too,” he panted out. Dean just leaned on the table and took a swig of the beer he had taken out of Harold’s fridge. _That’s it bastard, keep saying shit._ Dean said nothing and let Harold dig his grave even deeper.

“He would beg…God, it was so nice to hear him bag,” he chuckled, “No matter how much he was fucked, that hole, mm-mmm, it stayed so tight and delicious. You know, funny thing is, every time I showed up, I could see a spark of happiness in his eyes. Wanted to bring, ugh, the little whore here with me, keep him locked up. Keep my personal little sex toy. Never got around to hunting him down…to getting that sweet boy pussy again.”

 Dean said nothing. He stared at the man. Dean knew what the bastard was doing. He was trying to rile Dean up so he could do something stupid. Joke was on Harold, though, because Dean could see right through him. See, Dean had purposely left the ropes a bit of slack so that he could give Harold a false sense of hope of escaping. Dean gave a dark chuckle which had Harold stop his ‘escape.’

“I saw the DVDs, Harold. You’re one of the ones that like to use psychological torture. Get inside your victims head; make them believe you’re on their side before you hurt them. Fuck, you make them believe that you’re their only ally which only makes you even sicker in my watch.” He went up to Harold and tightened the ropes, much to his surprise.

“Now, sit tight while I finish.” He went back to the table and got a gag. When Harold saw it he shut his mouth tight, not like it’d do any good. Dean held the man’s nose shut until he opened his mouth to take a breath. He quickly put on the gag and then went to get something off the table. He showed it to Harold. His eyes widen so large, they looked ready to pop out of his sockets.

“Like it? It’s a knee splitter. Commonly used during the Inquisition,” he let Harold take a good look at the device. It consisted of two spiked wood blocks which were placed in the back and front of the knees. The blocks were then connected by two large screws which would be turned to close towards each other, destroying the knees.

“You know all those rumors you’ve probably heard of me and Sam dying and coming back and dying again?” He smiled up at Harold, “They aren’t rumors. Just me, well, I’ve died over a hundred times though I don’t remember the majority of them. Last time I dyed, well _I’m_ thinking it as a death, was this last time Sam was looking for me. Killed the head Leviathan, ended up in Purgatory; monster heaven, it was…It was so pure. Kill or be killed; black and white, no gray in between. Anyway, back to my many deaths. When I died a few years ago, I ended up in Hell. Was dead for four months, was downstairs for forty years. I was tortured for thirty of those years and then the last decade,” he tightened his eyes while giving Harold a grin, “I did the torturing. I was the Master Torturer’s best pupil. Seems I can put to use now.”

He tightened the left knee splitter first. Not even the gag could silence the screams Harold was giving. Dean took his sweet time on the first knee, stopping just to hear the pathetic whimpers the filthy asshole gave, only to start again. Just when he finished breaking the first knee completely the jackass fainted.

“Hey none of that, now,” he whispered while walking to the table and getting smelling salts. He put them under the tortured man’s nose and he woke. Dean smacked Harold’s face to finish waking him up and the bound man gave a sob. He seemed to be pleading behind the gag.

“Now, when Sam was pleading you to stop you told him, ‘Shh, little boy’…” Dean finished whispering it to Harold’s right ear, “‘…I’ll take care of you. Relax.’” 

Dean suddenly tightened the right knee splitter all the way destroying without any hesitation. Harold gave a loud, guttural scream that even with the gag on, the demons standing by the door outside could hear it. When they heard it a chill ran up their spines and they flinched, almost as if they were the ones on the chair.

  Harold fainted and this time Dean let him be. He had to prepare for the next round anyway. Dean took out a hammer, a few nails and some thumb screws. He turned to look at the fainted man, who by the way had shit and pissed himself, and couldn’t help but feel satisfied with his work. Now for the last part of the phase and he would go after the other ones.

Dean woke Harold up with the salts again and with slaps and kicks. Harold opened his eyes and tears came out of them.

“Oh, is little baby hurting,” he mocked, “don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon. Dean got the thumb screws and then got a hold of one of Harold’s hands. He tried to open the clenched fists to get to the fingers but Harold wouldn’t let him. Finally, after a few minutes of struggles he was able to put it on the left hand and he got to work. God, as sick as it sounded Harold’s muffled screams of agonies was music to Dean’s ear. He finished breaking every last one of the man’s fingers and got the hammer and nails last.

By the time Dean was finished with the thumbscrews, Harold’s eyes were glazed over. Pity, really, he wished he could’ve gotten some more reactions out of him. Still, doesn’t mean he should let the nails go to waste.

“Now, Harold, look at me…” he slapped him a few times until the glazed eyes were staring at him, “since you at least _tried_ to take care of Sam, even if it was in your own twisted way, I’m going to kill you now. Don’t worry though, the rest of your friends, they’ll be alive to feel even worst torture. It’s only been,” he looked at his watch, “Six hours since I started with you and now, I’m ending it.”

Dean hammered a few nails into Harold’s hands, feet, ankles and other sensitive parts until he got the last nail. It was twenty inches long and made of iron. Dean couldn’t help it; he gave a grin that would made the dead’s blood run colder and pressed lightly on Harold’s forehead. With a few hits of the hammers started going in Harold’s head. It was slow, the skull protecting the mushy part inside but eventually, it got through and Harold was no more.

OoOoOoOo

Dean opened the door to see four demons standing outside, all of which seemed a little pale.

“Alright boys and girls, I’m finished. Call your Daddy and tell him to get here. I’m going to clean up.”

He walked away to the Impala and the demons couldn’t help but peek inside; what was left of Harold was so mutilated that it looked like pounded meat.

 

 

Both Crowley and Dean watched the cabin burn to the ground. Crowley had seen the body and was rather impressed that the ‘Righteous Man’ had been able to torture to that extent. He did pity the idiots he was hunting down but, he got a good deal out of this. A few new souls, the demon tablets and watching a Winchester fall into a dark path. He gave a grin; things were looking good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m spoiling you guys. Here’s the first torture scene. Please, I don’t usually ask for this, could you guys give me some feedback on how I did. I hope it wasn’t too overboard, or it wasn’t enough. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, any recognizable characters belong to their rightful owners.  
> Enjoy.

Castiel was worried. It has been three days since Dean and Sam had separated and Sam was not in good health and it was still deteriorating. The first thing Sam did when they had arrived to the cabin was drink scotch. He proceeded to drink half a bottle in two hours before Castiel took it away from him. Afterwards, he stared at the wall for three hours straight before Castiel helped him in bed. He didn’t go to sleep even though his body was screaming for it so the angel helped him with that. Now, Castiel was calling Dean for the fifty-seventh time and it went to voicemail, _again_.

 “Dean, it’s me, calling you about Sam again. He is…unwell,” to put it lightly, “please call as soon as you get this.”

He looked at Sam, who hadn’t moved even an inch even though Castiel had just called Dean. After he woke up the next day he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t moved, talked, or eaten. He’s been, more or less, comatose. The only reason Sam hasn’t dehydrated was because Castiel would make him drink water. Now, though, he took out the IV he had acquired in a hospital and put it in Sam. Sam didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced him. It hurt Castiel to see him like this.

More worrisome, though, was that Sam’s soul would flicker on and off. The soul was losing its brilliance. Now, it was like a lightbulb trying to produce enough light but failing; Sam’s soul was losing the battle without Dean around. If Dean didn’t get here soon, Castiel worried what would become of Sam Winchester.

* * *

 

Dean woke up to the sound of his phone beeping that he had a new message. He turned over and groaned, looking for his phone with his eyes close by the little drawer. When he saw over fifty missed calls from Castiel he immediately sat up and called the angel.

He had slept for fourteen hours straight; he hadn’t even noticed when Cas had called. Dean was surprised when he figured that out, it had been a long time, if ever, since Dean had gotten a good night’s sleep without waking up. Still, if Castiel had called so many times it had to be for a reason; he hoped nothing bad had happened. Cas picked up before the first ring had finished.

“Where are you? I’ve been calling!” He shouted into the phone.

“I’m sorry, I…fell asleep,” he told Cas lamely.

“Sam is unwell; I suggest you tell me where you are so I can bring you here.”

Dean got up and put on his jacket, “What’s wrong?”

“Basically, he’s gone comatose,” Dean felt his blood run cold.

“Where are you?” he asked again. Dean told him and right as he finished giving the directions Cas was in front of him. A second later he was in the Rufus’ cabin, more specifically, in the room. He looked on the bed and there was Sam with an IV hooked on him. Sam hadn’t even acknowledged their presence. Dean didn’t even notice that he had moved but the next moment he was petting Sam’s hair.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dean asked Castiel in a whisper.

“Dean, remember when both of you died and ended up in heaven together?” How could Dean forget, it was one of the worst day of his life. “Well, you both ended up in the same heaven because you’re both—,”

“Soulmates,” Dean said, “I know, Ash he…told us.” Dean gave a chuckle, “honestly, we hadn’t even talked about.” To be completely honest, Dean hadn’t even thought about it. Anytime he it would creep in his mind he would stamp out, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed. Dean looked down at his brother, had Sam stirred or was Dean imagining it?

“Yes. Well, with what Sam has been through, not just recently, but these past few years his soul has been…damaged. He needs you around, Dean. You anchor him. With you around, his soul doesn’t withdraw and hide. These past few days, his soul has, flickered on and off.”

Dean looked up, “You mean, he’s been soulless?”

“No, I mean it’s trying to escape from his body and find peace. With you around, it wants to stay and fight to continue being where it’s at, where it belongs.”

Dean felt horrible. He had fucked over big time. Now he had to worry if his brother was ever going to wake up again, if his brother’s soul wouldn’t leave to find peace.

“What can I do?” he asked Castiel, his voice full of desperation. He didn’t want his brother to leave him with nothing more than a shell.

“Just do what you’re doing now, being there for him.” He looked at Sam and Dean looked down, too. Sam was staring at Dean, his eyes focused on his big brother instead of being glassy and unseeing. Sam was moving, it was barely noticeable, but he was moving. Dean hadn’t imagined it earlier.

“Hey, there baby boy,” Dean planted a kiss on top of Sam’s head, “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” He raised his head to give Cas a thanks but the angel was gone, probably to give the two brothers privacy. Dean sent the Cas a silent thanks. A note fluttered down from the ceiling, ‘try to get him to eat, he hasn’t eaten since he got here. Also, give him plenty of fluids. Talk to him, Dean. He needs you.’

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and got a hold of Sam’s huge hand, the one that didn’t have an IV in it. Funny, he remembered when he could engulf both of Sam’s hands in his, now though, they were bigger than Dean’s. He gave a little smile, full of nostalgia.

“I’ve been an ass, Sammy. What I said to you, it was—unforgivable. It wasn’t your fault, it never was, and it never will be. If anyone’s to blame, it’s _them,_ not you.” I’m _the one to blame,_ he left unsaid. Sam hadn’t moved or said anything but Dean had the distinct impression that Sam was listening, listening and waiting. Dean had no idea for what but he hoped he could give Sam what he wanted.

“When I first got out of Purgatory and I assumed you hadn’t looked for me, I thought you had abandoned me for a girl and a dog,” he gave a rueful chuckle, “What happened with Benny…I’m the one who abandoned _you._ Instead of taking your side, I fucked you over and then went ahead and blamed it on you.” Dean was stroking the back of Sam’s hand, hoping he could get…something out of Sam. Hoping he wasn’t too late because his own stupidity. He sat on the bed, his back on the wall and crossed his legs; he didn’t let go of Sam’s hand.

“I know,” he gave a deep breath, “I know I have _no_ right to ask for this but Sam, I truly am sorry,” Dean’s voice broke on the last word.

Dean felt Sam squeeze his hand a little. He looked down at his little brother who was giving him a little, shy smile. Staring at Sam’s hazel eyes, he knew his was forgiven, just like that. Sam forgave his brother after he gave him nothing more than a half assed apology.  

Dean gave a little laugh of relief and wiped tears he hadn’t even noticed. He slid down so he and Sam were eye to eye level. Dean encircled his arms around Sam’s waist and then put his forehead on top of Sam’s not caring how ‘unmanly’ it seemed, (hey if sisters could do it why couldn’t brothers?) Sam hid his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder and Dean buried his hands in Sam’s hair. They stayed like that for a long while, until Sam fell asleep. Later, Dean would call Benny and tell him he couldn’t help anymore. He had other pressing matters, more important than anything else in Dean’s Universe. Now, though, Dean whispered apologies and nonsense into Sam’s ears.

* * *

 

Castiel stared at both brothers while he was invisible. He gave a small smile when he saw how both brothers clung to each other. He was glad they were able to connect again. Sam’s soul was shining again, not as bright as it usually was but still giving off a steady light. Castiel felt a little better now.

He gave a frown. Earlier he had heard Samandriel’s pleas for help and Castiel couldn’t ignore them. Samandriel was being tortured and he had to find him. Castiel could ask the Winchesters for help but he knew they needed time to be together and be brothers without any hindrance. No, he refused to get in between the brothers much needed time alone. He gave one last look towards the Winchester brothers and, with a wave of his hand, made a glass of water appear before he left.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short. Hoped you liked, not the best I’ve ever written. Will try to update soon but I started school this week so no promises. Any mistakes are my own.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t owe Supernatural or any recognizable characters. They belong to their rightful owners.  
> Enjoy. All mistakes are my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s the next chapter. I know it’s short and not exciting but I needed the Trans to start living their lives so Dean could focus on his mission.  
> Hope you liked, will update when I can.   
> Thanks for reading.

The past few days have gone, more or less, smoothly. Sam was a little more quiet and reserved around Dean, almost like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though it hurt Dean, he knew why Sam was like that. Dean had hurt him with his words and actions and he was afraid of it happening again. Dean didn’t blame his little brother, he blamed himself. Anyway, it’s not like he couldn’t understand his brother, he could read him loud and clear through his body language and silent looks.

Sam was at the table and eating a sandwich, by the look on his face one would think he was being tortured. That was something that was worrying Dean. As a rule, Sam didn’t eat much and when he did it was that healthy crap. Now, he was eating even less. Dean had to coax, bribe, and threaten Sam so he could eat a few bites and getting him to finish a whole meal, impossible.

Sam pushed away the half eaten sandwich and looked at Dean with a dejected and tortured expression, pleading for Dean to let him go. Dean would rather Sam ate all the food but he couldn’t force the sandwich down his brother’s gullet. Besides, at least he ate some. He took the plate away and put it on the sink. Sam gave such a relieved smile that Dean almost felt like he did the right thing by not forcing him to finish.

Sam got up and went to sit in front of the TV. He flipped through the channels until he stopped on a game show. Dean stared at his brother. He was so quiet and still, his shoulders tensed like he was waiting for an attack. Dean gave a sad smile and went to the kitchen. He took out his phone and looked for Cas’ number.

Dean hadn’t heard from Castiel since earlier that week when he had told Dean about Sam. Dean was beginning to worry which was weird because there would be times when Dean wouldn’t hear Cas for weeks and it never bothered Dean before. Cas was a big angel able to take care of himself without needing a babysitter (usually), so why was Dean feeling unsettled? The ringing went straight to voicemail so he left him a message, ending with “call back soon.”

Dean frowned down at the phone and then heard a bell ringing from the TV show. He decided to put Castiel out of his mind for the moment and went to watch the game with his brother.

OoOoOoOo

Dean decided that for Sam to feel better they needed to get out of the cabin. So the next day he bundled Sam up and horded him into the car before Dean drove towards where the Trans were being kept. He thought this way Sam wouldn’t have an excuse not to go _and_ he would tell Kevin about his new found, demon free life. Dean just hoped Kevin and Mrs. Tran would be okay with it and they kept their mouths shut to Sam.

After a whole day’s travel they made it to the safe houseboat. Garth greeted them with a hug, as usual, and then invited them inside. Mrs. Tran was nagging at Kevin to ‘be cleaner’ and ‘to not leave his dirty underwear all over the place.’ Kevin had headphones on full blast.

Dean felt like rolling his eyes at the Trans. Luckily for him, Sam had stayed outside to talk with Garth. Dean cleared his throat and go Mrs. Tran’s attention. Kevin had his back to Dean and couldn’t hear him so Dean walked up to him and yanked the earphones off. Kevin gave an indignant ‘hey’ which had Dean rolling his eyes.

“I have news but first, you have to promise not to tell Sam. If you do demons would be the least of your problems, understood?” Both Trans nodded.

“Great, first you no longer have to worry about Crowley and demons coming after you. I’ve made a deal with Crowley and we signed a contract, so it’s valid. Crowley doesn’t go against a contract.” Both Trans were shocked to silence.

“Any questions?”

“Yeah, I have one,” Kevin answered, “What did you give him in return?”

“I gave him the demon tablet as well as a promise that you wouldn’t go after him and demons.”

Mrs. Tran looked relieved but Kevin looked pissed.

“What?! That bastard kidnapped me, killed my girlfriend, tortured me and then _cut off_ my finger. I want them all locked up until the end of times in _Hell,_ not have them running around on Earth! How could you make that type of deal, especially on _my_ behalf! How do you know he won’t renegade against the contract to begin with?”

“Listen, Kevin. This is the chance for you to have a life, a _demon_ free life. You get to live without worrying about demons. Go back to college, get a career, a wife, have annoying little babies running you to the ground. You have a second chance, don’t ruin it because, you know what, if you continue with the path of revenge and hatred it will get you and your mom killed, or worst.”

Mrs. Tran put a hand on her son’s shoulder, “Kevin, we get a new life. Please, just accept it.”

Kevin’s shoulder slumped down and he looked lost. He looked up at Dean, “You’re sure it’ll hold. He won’t come after me or my mom.”

“Yeah, he’ll hold the terms of the contract, he holds all his deals. As long as you don’t go after demons, you’re free. If _they_ attack you first, they’re fair game.”

Mrs. Tran went up and hugged Dean with tears rolling down her cheeks, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“There’s so much to do. Kevin we have to pack our things and find a new place to live…”

“Ah, wait,” Dean interrupted, they both turned to look at him.

“Anyplace you do decide to live, I suggest you ward it properly. Talk to Garth after I leave, he’ll be able to help. Tell him everything if you want, or not, don’t really care. If you do tell him, make sure you tell him _not to tell Sam._ ”

The Trans nodded, “don’t you think keeping secrets from Sam will get you in trouble.”

Dean made a face at Kevin who put his hands up when he saw Dean’s expression, “Sorry, just saying, but you know what’ best for your brother.” Dean had to repress a flinch.

OoOoOoOo

When they were driving back to the cabin Sam started talking.

“It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“The Trans, how they suddenly decided to leave the houseboat, wouldn’t it have been safer to stay there?”

“Well, you heard them,” Dean tried not to show anything on his expression, “They’re tired of hiding and want to try their luck. It’s not as if they’re running away from us, we’ll know where they’ll be at. They can protect their home and they know how to ward themselves against demons. I think they’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, it’s just…Crowley.”

Dean stayed silent. He almost spilled the beans to Sam. He hated lying to his little brother but he knew the truth would be worst for Sam. It would be better if he found out later, _way_ later.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. All recognizable characters belong to their rightful owners.
> 
> Enjoy.

It had been a crazy two weeks. First, a nerd that wanted to win a fantasy game (and the hand of the 'Queen'.) had decided to go to the dark side and use fairies to eliminate the competition. On the plus side, they had found Charlie, the aforementioned Queen of Moons, found out about LARPing and had had fun. More importantly, Sam had actually smiled and seemed to actually been enjoying himself. Then, things got complicated.

There long lost grandfather from their dad side had literally jumped into their lives; from right out of the closet. He's pretty sure there's a joke around there somewhere but he didn't want to think about it. Yeah, turns out he hadn't abandoned John like they first thought. No, he had traveled through time and, oh, he had brought a demon with him that even the demon-killing knife couldn't kill.

And if that wasn't enough, it turned out he was part of a secret society and Sam and he were 'legacies'. Then they had to find a way to kill the evil bitch and just when Dean was starting to actually  _like_ Henry Winchester, he gets killed. Story of their lives. Now all they had was a dead grandfather, a dismembered Knight of Hell, and a key to a secret place. Dean pulls up to a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. Great, they got a place that is most likely old and decrypt. He couldn't wait to go in and start cleaning,  _not_. They got out of the Impala and walked towards the entrance of the bunker which seemed to be built into a bank. The bunker itself appeared to be a two-story building above ground level.

"When's the last time somebody was in this place?"

"Sixty-five, seventy years ago," great, they probably inherited rats chewing through everything. Dean felt like shuddering just thinking about it. God, he hated rats.

Dean opened up the little box that had the key to the bunker. When he opened the door both Sam and he walked down a short flight of stairs. They turn on their flashlights when they were inside the actual bunker. Their flashlights flashed over some fifties type communication equipment.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, with amazement in his voice.

"Look at this. Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard, this was their nerve center."

"Henry did say that they ran dispatch on their own team of hunters," he told Sam absentmindedly while shining his flashlight on a table containing a chess board, an ashtray glass and a dirty coffee cup. "Wow. Halfway through their coffee and a game of chess – looks like whoever was manning the hub left quick."

"On the alarm call that ended the Men of Letters," Dean kept waving his flashlight around when it fell on a switch box on the wall. He opened the switch box and pushed a lever inside it. The lights suddenly turned on making Sam, (who was down the railings) look up in surprise before turning off the flashlight. Dean then pulled the second lever and then more lights come on as well as music.

From downstairs he heard Sam, "Son of a bitch," prompting Dean to go, too. What he saw almost made his jaw drop open. There was a large furnished room with bookshelves, polished wooden floors and large wooden tables. It looked like an extra-large den seen in the movies where old rich coots smoke their cigars; Dean loved it.

"Sammy, I think we found the Bat Cave." He smiled at his younger brother.

OoOoOoOo

Dean had finished the best shower he had ever had. The water pressure was more than working, it was magnificently working; Dean hadn't wanted to get out of. Now he had on a gray robe he had found and went to look for Sam. When he found him he saw books spread all over the table and Sam leaning over, reading two of them at once.

"Morning."

"Morning," Sam answered back while give him a quick look before going back to the books.

"The, uh, water pressure in the Letters' shower room is marvelous." Dean frowned a little; he was hoping for a bigger reaction. Maybe some teasing or poking fun at Dean.

"Yeah. I still can't figure out how we even have water... or electricity.

"Yep, well, I am putting that under the 'ain't broke' column. Listen, little brother, let's not go all geek on this stuff, okay?" Dean was looking around the room when his eyes landed on a scimitar that was on display. He gave a little smile at it.

"'Geek'," Sam asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I mean, don't—don't get me wrong," He walked up the to the scimitar and picked it up, "This stuff is awesome, and it looks like they ran a real tight outfit here, but I'm just saying, you know, don't, uh, don't think that they knew some big secrets that we don't know." Dean couldn't help but strike some poses with the thing. When Sam turned, though, he quickly straightened up so his brother wouldn't see him goofing around; he still had some dignity.

"Dean, they were a  _secret_ society," he told Dean, exasperated.

Which means that they made crap up and wore fezzes and sashes and swung around scimitars. They probably didn't even sharp—," he had ran along his finger the on blade and felt a sting meaning he had a cut, "That's very sharp." He put the damn thing back and put his finger in his mouth. Sam had some amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Dean, look, I think we might have something here—something that could help us, help humanity. Henry certainly thought so. I mean, you know damn well we could use a break. What if we finally got one?" They stared at each other. Dean felt some disbelief; when had  _anything_  been easy for them? Sooner or later shit always hit the fan and they were even worse off than when they started. But, looking at Sam's happy and hopeful face Dean couldn't say what he was thinking out loud so he looked away from Sam.

They stayed in silence for a few seconds before Sam broke it, "Are you gonna take off the dead-guy robe?"

OoOoOoOo

Almost three weeks later they had, more or less, settled into their Bat Cave, checked up on the Trans, finished a case that had involved rabbis, a golem and Nazi necromancers, and Dean had called Sam a Man of Letters and honestly, Dean couldn't be happier for his little brother. He was smiling more often and not having any nightmares about the past. He was more than content to stare at old dusty books all day long. They each even had their own room. Everything should've been perfect; should've.

Castiel was still missing. Sure he would disappear a few times but he would always call to reassure the brothers he was still alive and breathing. Now, over a month since he left them in the cabin, they had received nothing from the angel. Though neither Sam nor Dean would admit it out loud they were both worried for their friend.

Another thing that was bothering Dean was the fact that he hadn't been able to sneak out from Sam for long period of times without raising any red flags at his younger brother. Dean wanted nothing more than to get rid of those scums off the face of the Earth but it was hard to do so because Sam would disapprove of what Dean was doing so he had held off… for now.

The silence that both brothers were in was broken when Dean's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and quickly answered.

"Cas, where are you, are you OK?" Dean frowned when heard silence on the other line.

"Dean…" there was heavy breathing, "I need…help." Dean listened and then packed up his brother into the Impala and directed the car towards Whitefish, Montana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated, I haven't forgotten the story it's just that I had surgery and some complications happened but I'm better now. Sorry for it being so short and uninteresting but I promise next chapter Dean is going on a one way ticket to revenge. Hope you liked.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any recognizable characters. Dudes being tortured by Dean are mine but they suck  
> Warning: Torture, depression, suicidal ideation, non-con, caning, mentions of dp, male x male, offensive language, and mentions of self-harm  
> Enjoy

Castiel had been resting for almost two days now and Dean was going crazy wondering what happened to his friend. Dean may make fun of Cas for being like a child and socially incompetent but he knew that Cas could and would be lethal in battle. For his friend to be as fried as he was and actually ‘sleeping’ then some serious shit must have gone down. Plus, he still had no idea what _had_ happened. Fifteen hours after Cas had called that he was in Rufus’ old cabin Dean had found his friend on the floor bleeding out from a stab wound in his stomach. The angel had only enough energy left to open his eyes and say ‘Sam, Dean’ before fainting. It scared Dean shitless but, after confirming that Cas was still alive, Sam and he had loaded the injured angel into the Impala. He still had no answers to his questions because Cas hadn’t woken up. Dean had just checked up on Cas, noting that the injuries had all but healed, when he went to the den of the bunker where Sam was sitting and reading books.

“How’s he doing?” Sam asked after acknowledging Dean with a nod.

“The same, comatose and drool coming out of his open mouth, I almost feel like drawing on his face with permanent markers just to see if he wakes up from his long ass nap.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Pfft, I’m not worried,” he scoffed at Sam, “More a little concern.” Sam made a face towards Dean.

“What? That little nerdy angel is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. He friggin’ survived exploding Leviathans that had taken a ride in his meat suit _and_ insanity all in the same year followed by purgatory. You know, purgatory, where Big-mouths live, the creatures that can actually kill angels? He’ll be fine. So, no, I’m not worried. Concerned yes, worried no.”

Sam gave him a skeptical look before mumbling, “Whatever you say,” and went back to putting his nose in the book he was reading. Dean not so discreetly scrutinized Sam, (he was too busy reading to notice Dean’s stares). Sam was tensed. He hadn’t slept well since they got Cas into the bunker. These past two days Sam has only slept like an hour and it shows on the bags under Sammy’s tired eyes. When he tried to sleep he would wake up gasping for air and terrified. Dean has tried to gently push Sam into going to bed but his stubborn brother has refused. Dean wasn’t worried about Cas, he was worried of his younger brother which is why Dean had a plan to hopefully take Sam’s mind of things if only for a while.

Their yearly pilgrimage to Vegas was upon them. This time, though, instead of the usual week Dean has planned for two and half. He was going to try his damnest to get Sam to enjoy the little vacation. Then maybe they can have a detour to the Grand Canyon. Dean had always wanted to go and, even though he would never admit it, so did Sam. Now all they had to do is wait for the Comatose Angel to wake up and they could hit the road.

 

But, of course, when had anything that Dean ever planned gone off without a hitch? The answer, never. Cas woke up a few hours later still looking like shit but up walking and talking. Then Sam and Dean made him tell them what the hell had happened to him.

“Well, after I left you two in the cabin. I had, for a while, been hearing a distress call from an angel. I didn’t know how it was just that they were being tortured horribly but I could not leave Sam alone so I waited until you showed up Dean,” Dean interrupted Cas with a question.

“If you knew there was an angel in trouble why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you,” Cas gave Dean his own version of a bitch face and Dean threw his hands up to signalize that Cas could continue.

“I didn’t want to involve you two because you had your own problems. Besides, Sam was in no condition to go on an angel rescuing mission.” From his peripheral vision Dean saw Sam’s face fall a little and knowing him, he was blaming himself for Cas getting hurt. Dena frowned and made a mental note to talk to Sam about that later.

“It turned out that Crowley had kidnapped and tortured the angel Samandriel for information about angels.”

“Wait, Samandriel,” Sam asked and turned towards Dean, “Wasn’t he that Alfie kid who had bid the whole Vatican to get the Demon Tablet?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, I remember him. He looked like a high schooler instead of a fearful Angel of God. He’s the one who got taken?” He turned his question to Castiel.

“Yes, it was him. Crowley tortured him so much that he revealed our secrets and then some. It turns out that there is also an Angel Tablet.”

Dean wanted to curse out loud but ended up gritting his teeth, really hard. Damn Crowley and his fucking fucked up schemes.

“When I got Samandriel out he tried to warn me that they were controlling us before I could ask I remember being in front of an angel I’ve never met and she kept telling me to kill Samandriel. For some reason, I was able to resist which seemed to surprise her. I didn’t kill him but the other angel, Naomi, came down with two other angles and killed Samandriel. Then I found myself to that room again but this time I was tied to a chair with Naomi over me and a drill in her hand. I was able to escape again somehow and ran. Then I called you.”

Dean said nothing and neither did Sam. Dean felt there was more to the story but he didn’t push. He had his secrets and he had a feeling whatever was left out was Castiel’s business. He poured a drink out and handed the glass to Cas.

“I have a feeling you really need this buddy.”

OoOoOoOo

That night Sam had, thankfully, gone to sleep; Dean took that opportunity to watch a different DVD of what had happened to Sam. It opened with one of the fuckers, Joe Smith to be exact, going into the room. He went straight to Sam, who was sitting on the bed with his legs up to his chest, hugging them, (Sam’s ankle was chained to the bed post though it was long enough for him to move around.) and ran his hand through Sam’s hair.

Dean gave a growl when the asshole pulled Sam’s hair suddenly so Sam was looking up at him; Sam gave a whimper and Dean could tell there were tears coming out of Sam’s eyes. Damn if that didn’t make Dean’s blood boil.

_‘Hey there pretty boy, ready for another fuck?’_

_‘Please, can’t,’_ Sam’s voice sounded hoarse.

_‘What’s the matter, bitch, still tired from the fun we had earlier? Boy, you really are a true whore, taking those two cocks up that hole of yours,’_ he leaned in closer to Sam _, ‘Wonder what big brother would think if he found out how much of slut his little brother truly was.’_ He gave a big laugh and made Sam lie down in the bed with his ass up.

_‘Here comes round two!’_ he gleefully yelled before raping his little brother with no prep or warning. When Sam was breeched he gave such a wounded scream that Dean could feel it deep in his soul.

Dean kept watching his brother’s rape while the dead man kept saying obscenities toward his baby brother. As if Sam deserved it, as if Sam asked for this to happen to him, as if _he_ wasn’t the perverted son of a bitch raping his Sammy, who could’ve been Smith’s son.

Dean watched as the bastard gave a grunt and fell on top of Sam. Dean could barely hear Sam’s snivels and little whimpers of pain. He saw as the bastard got out of Sam; Dean could also see Smith was still semi-hard. He went around until his dick was in front of Sammy’s face.

_‘C’mon pretty boy, time to put that hole on your face to use,’_ He pulled Sam’s hair to pull him closer to Smith’s dick; it sicken Dean to see Smith get a full on hard on with Sam’s grunt of pain. _‘Open that pretty, little mouth of yours like a good bitch.’_

Sam opened his mouth, making Dean erupt with rage. Through the red haze in his vision he heard a loud ‘son of a bitch’ then a smack, and a grunt of pain. Dean could tell that Sam had bitten the bastard and Dean couldn’t help but feel smug. That is until he saw what happened next.

Smith kept slapping Sam’s face over and over again until Sam couldn’t even whimper. When he stopped Dean saw that Sam’s nose was bleeding as well as his mouth. Then Joe went to get a cane and started hitting Sam with no finesse, just force.

_‘You dare bite me? You’re nothing but a useless cunt that was put on this Earth to be used by greater men than you and_ you dare to bite me? _I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget!_

Smith kept caning Sam over and over again. He would stop for a while when he saw Sam was about to pass out but then would start again. It went on for an hour and by the time Smith had given Sam his last stroke Sam could barely give little mewls with the screaming he had been doing.

_‘That’ll teach you, cunt.’_

Dean stared for five whole minutes at the screen after Smith left; it was Sam writhing in pain and giving little mewls of distress and pain. Dean closed the laptop and after a second or two got up and threw every book from the table to the floor. They landed by a pair of shoes and Dean looked up to see the person’s face.

“It’s not good for you to punish yourself by watching something you have no control of; Sam would greatly disapprove of it.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing Sam doesn’t know,” Dean looked pointedly at Cas who frowned in disapproval.

“No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

Dean waked away from Cas but not before he heard, “It still doesn’t mean it is good for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and walked towards his room. He stopped suddenly when he heard a sound. It was Sam and the unmistakable sound of his cries. Dean didn’t even think he just found himself automatically going to Sam’s door and opening; he paused at the entrance at what he saw.

“Oh, Sammy.” Sam looked up at him from the floor with wide, teary eyes, scared of all things.

Dean turned his attention to Sam’s arms; Sam’s _bleeding_ arms, then he turned his attention to the knife in Sam’s hands. Dean didn’t even notice he had moved towards Sam until he had taken the knife out of Sam’s hand and then he was holding Sam close to his chest.

“Oh, baby boy. Shh, it’s okay I’m here now.” Sam sobbed harder into Dean’s shirt; he didn’t mind.

“What’s the matter, Sammy?”

“I just want to die, it’s too much. I just want to _die._ ” Dean’s heart was beating fast when Sam said that and he held Sam closer to himself. There’s no way he was going to let his little brother die, not again.

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not do anything rash. What’s wrong, why do you wanna die?”

“It’s too _much_ ” Sam’s voice broke on the last word, “I just want to get my gun and shoot myself.”

Dean looked at the bed and for the first time noticed Sam’s hand gun. Dean’s heart stopped and his blood ran cold. He automatically pulled Sam closer, wishing he could somehow absorb Sam into his body so that Dean could protect him forever. But, he couldn’t, it was physically impossible to do so.

Dean pulled Sam and himself up off the floor and he went to sit Sam on the edge of the bed; Sam hugged himself. Dean then went to get the first aid kit. He quickly ran back towards Sam’s room passing Cas along the way; he had a look of confusion on his face.

When Dean got back to Sam’s room Sam was lying on his side on the bed, his arms still around his torso.

Hey, c’mon let me clean the wounds.” Sam looked up at Dean with an expression full of hopelessness and pain. Dean didn’t think his heart could break more; he was wrong.

Dean got a hold of Sam’s arm and started cleaning the wounds. Thankfully only one scar was deep enough for stitches and even then it only needed three. Dean quickly finished that, put disinfection cream on the cuts and put on a new shirt on Sam; Dean was throwing away the bloody one. He then made Sam lie down and he held is younger brother in his arms the whole night; Sam didn’t wake up at all.

Dean’s last thought was that Vegas was going to be a great distraction for Sam.

 

Two days later Dean hit a wall with his Vegas mini-vacation. Dean didn’t bring up until he was sure Sam felt a little better.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?”

“I mean, I think we should stay with Cas, make sure everything is okay, y’know?”

“No I don’t know. Cas said he’s fine, he’s a big boy he can take care of himself. So c’mon, pack up, we’re doing this.” Sam sighed and closed the book he was reading; that couldn’t be good.

“Dean, it’s just—I don’t really feel like dealing with…” he waved his arm a little before putting it on his head, “people, y’know?” He looked up at Dean with his puppy eyes out.

“Fine, fine,” Dean threw his hands up in surrender, “we won’t go. We’ll stay here,” he pulled out a chair, “and read books.”

“Dean, I didn’t say _you_ couldn’t go. I don’t want to go but that shouldn’t stop you from going and having fun.”

Dean opened his mouth to give an adamant, ‘hell, no,’ there was no way he was going to leave Sam alone while he went and had fun in Vegas. The whole point of this going out was so that _Sam_ was the one having fun and be distracted from the horror shows in his head. What if Sam felt suicidal or harmed himself again? No way in hel—Dean shut his mouth and frowned.

Though he loathed the idea of leaving Sam he thought that right now would be the _perfect_ opportunity to go after another of those fuckers. Besides, Cas was here if Sam needed anything he could call Dean and Dean would be here quicker than a bat out of hell. Plus, he could give Cas explicit rules to look after Sam. With Castiel’s ability to appear invisible he would have no problem watching over Sam. He didn’t think twice about.

“Y’know, maybe I should.” Dean ignored the hurt he felt when Sam relaxed and tension fell off of his expression.

OoOoOoOo

That same night Dean was packed and ready to go. He was doing a double check of what he had when Cas was suddenly by Dean, which of course, made Dean jump from surprise.

“Damn it, Cas, come out like a normal person and announce yourself.”

“Apologies, where are you really going?”

“What do you mean, going to Vegas. Cheat idiots out of cash, gamble like there’s no tomorrow, and hey, maybe I’ll get drunk enough to marry an old broad that looked like a young 25 year-old through my drunk glasses.” Cas kept staring at Dean without blinking; it made Dean want to squirm a little.

“You’re lying. You are going after another one of _them_.”

“So what if I am?” Dean asked, defensively, closing the trunk of the car with more force than needed, “I can do what I want, I’m grown Cas, and ain’t nothing that can stop me, so don’t even try.”

“What if Sam asked you?” Dean said nothing and opened the drivers’ side of the Impala.

“Dean,” he said more forcefully, “This is _not_ good for you. You are delving deep in a dark part of your soul; at a part where I found you when I raised you from perdition. If you keep going this way you _will_ lose yourself in it, Dean.” Dean ignored him.

“Take care of Sammy for me. I’ll have my cellphone on so if anything happens call me.” With that he left a frowning Cas standing by the bunker as Dean drove away.

 

When he was an hour away from the bunker, Dean pulled out his cellphone and looked through his contacts until he found the number he needed. He waited until the phone was answered with a rough ‘hello,’ before he said anything.

“It’s time; tell me where I can find the second one.”

OoOoOoOo

Smith lived half an hour away from Harold; luckily these bastards seemed to like to live less than a couple of hours away from one another. Probably easier to hunt down creatures and humans to torture. Dean was looking through a pair of binoculars from a little cliff. Just down the cliff was a cabin, actually kinda of big. Crowley was right beside Dean and behind him the same demons that were there the first time Dean tortured one of the bastards.

“He’s been rather paranoid; locking himself in the cabin, not coming out more than strictly needed and warding the whole cabin. Good luck getting in.”

Dean put down the binoculars and without looking at Crowley he talked, “Oh, don’t worry I’ll get in, one way or another.” Crowley shrugged.

“As before, I’ll my demons here; tell them when you finish playing with your toy. I even got you some new toys; I trust you still have your old bag?” Dean nodded and took the newly offered bag.

“Have fun squirrel.” Crowley disappeared leaving four unsettled demons with the eldest Winchester.

Dean turned to the four demons and said, “I need you guys to rough me up a little.”

He smiled when he saw the demons surprised faces.

 

Dean limped a little towards the cabin. The demons had been kind of afraid at first but they had quickly gotten with the program. They have given him a few scratches that tore his shirt, a busted lip, and a bruise on his cheek; the limping was Dean’s idea to seem more vulnerable. He completed the look with a hitchhikers’ backpack he had made the demons go get for him. That completed the look of a lost, scared camper. There’s no way Joe would suspect anything and, considering his extracurricular activity, he would be tempted to get a new play toy. Dean knocked on the door trying to get the feral grin off his face and look tired and lost. The door opened a few moments later.

Joe had salt and pepper hair, was as tall as Dean and was muscular; he looked good for his age. Dean was here to remedy that. Joe had one arm behind his back, most likely a gun and then he looked at Dean and seemed to relax some; Dean must’ve fooled him.

“Oh, thank God someone’s here. I’ve been camping but seemed to have gotten lost, been looking for the road for two days now. I have no idea where I’m going and I need some help. I’m sorry to bother you but can you lend me a hand?” Joe relaxed even further and gave a grin. He looked as if he had just caught easy prey; Dean smiled internally, Joe _thought_ he was the predator when really, _he_ was Dean’s prey.

“Why, ‘course I can. Come in, come in,” he opened the door wider and moved to the side to let Dean in, Dean saw the evil glint in Joe’s eyes and he knew he was in.

“Sit down, make yourself at home. Do you want a beer?”

“Are you kidding me? After what I’ve been through I could use some liquid courage.” Joe smiled and in went to the kitchen. The cabin was in good condition, it was tastefully decorated and reds, greens, and browns and had comfortable furniture. The kitchen was just by the sitting room he was in and Dean could see Joe walking around getting the beers. Dean was a hundred percent certain that he was drugging one of the beers.

“So, did you come with anyone?”

“Uh, no, I’m by myself. Don’t really have any friends. I’m kind of a loner, you know.”

“Really, any family back home.”

“Uh, well, no, not really. Grew up in the system, never really settled down, I like my freedom. Couldn’t really stay just one place. I love my adventures too much.”

“Hmm,” Joe hummed and Dean couldn’t help but give a feral grin that could’ve stopped monsters in their tracks.

When Joe came back Dean got up and took the beer being offered and clinked it to Joe’s bottle. He pretended to drink the offered drink. Joe turned his back on Dean to poke at the fireplace so that the flames would grow a little bigger.

“By the way, you never told me your name.”

“Dean Winchester,” Joe turned around abruptly only to take Dean’s bottle to his face.

OoOoOoOo

Thirty minutes later, Joe was tied up and waking up. He groaned and seemed confuse to where he was and what had happened; Dean kept drinking a new beer he had gotten out of the fridge and stared at Joe, amused.

When he was fully conscious he tried to break out of his bonds and looked up to sneer at Dean, “You little bitch, let me out so we can fight like real men. What you can’t defeat someone so you use deceit and tie them up to a fucking chair. Fucking coward.” Dean laughed, he laughed and laughed and didn’t stop for a good minute or two. When he did he looked straight at Joe’s eyes, they were cold and hard with no amusement in his eyes contradicting his laughter from just a few seconds ago.

“You, one of the perverted assholes that _tied_ and _beat_ and _raped_ my little brother, _you_ are calling me a coward. If Sam hadn’t been tied up he would’ve not only beat you perverts, he would’ve _destroyed_ you. That’s okay though, he was incapacitated so I’m here to make up for it.” Dean went over and rummaged through his backpack and came out with a wicked looking knife.

“So, let’s get started,” Dean could see the terror in Joe’s eyes. Dean’s smile grew bigger.

  

An hour and dozen cuts later, Dean put the knife on the couch and went to tend the fire. It was night time and it was starting to get chilly. He turned to look at Joe, who was breathing heavily, and told him, “Stay put have to make a call.”

“Fuck…off, you bastards. Is that the best you got?” Dean smirked and went outside. The demons were out there looking bored.

“Gotta make a call, don’t say anything or you’ll be next.” The demons backed off a little and Dean walked away from the cabin, “And make sure he doesn’t get loose.”

Dean took out his phone and went through his contacts until he got to Sammy’s number. After a few rings Sam answered the phone with a, “hello?”

“Hey Sammy, how’re you?”

“I’m fine, reading, you know?” Sam said, ‘fine’ a little too quickly, that worried Dean and he frowned.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, _mom_ , I’ve eaten all my fruits and vegetables and took my nappy without complaint.” Dean could _hear_ Sam’s eyes rolling.

“You better bitch.”

“Jerk. How’s Vegas.”

“Oh you know, full of half-naked ladies and gambling. Got here a few hours ago, took a rest and now that night is here, I’m going hunting.” Sam laughed and it warmed Dean’s heart; a genuine laugh from Sam is rare and far between each other nowadays.

“Yeah, well don’t forget to use protection; you don’t want to catch anything.”

“Sammy, I am immune to everything.”

“Whatever, have fun and remember Sex Ed.”

“Hahaha, you’re so hilarious… You sure everything’s fine, I could go back right now,” even though it would be hard for Dean he could just kill the bastard and go racing back to Sammy, he was all that truly mattered.

“No! No, have fun, I’m fine, bye,” Sam hung up and Dean felt horrible, his brother _wasn’t_ fine and here he was going against Sam’s wishes. Dean contemplated going back and letting go of revenge but then he shook his head to clear it.

If Sam really wanted Dean back he would call him. Plus, with Cas there Sam was safe and if he got worst Castiel would give him a call. He gave a nod and walked back towards the cabin.

 

“Hey, I’m back. Ready for round two?” the demons left as soon as Dean came in. Joe was squirming around to try to break the ropes that were binding him to the chair.

“Save your energy, they aren’t coming off.” Joe glared at Dean.

“Using demons to do you’re bidding. Maybe it’s not just little Sammy who is in cahoots with those abominations, maybe it’s all the Winchesters.” Dean ignored him and put more wood in the fire, he didn’t want good ol’ Joe getting cold, now would he? Dean then went to the bag he had come with and opened to see which torture he would inflict on Joe first.

Dean’s eyes fell on a pear shaped device that consisted of a metal body, shaped in a pear thus the name the pear of anguish, and was divided into spoon-like segments that could be spread apart by turning a screw. Dean gave a cold smile; he noticed that Joe shuddered a little before quickly composing himself. Dean brought up the instrument so Joe could take a good look at it. His eyes widened a little bit before he glared at Dean.

“I trust you know what this is, I saw you guys using it on my little brother, who by the way, has never _done anything_ to deserve what you bastards did to him. Don’t worry, though,” he stood over the asshole, letting his height intimidate him, “I’m here to fix that.” Joe gave a snarl.

“That little bitch was fornicating with _demons;_ he started the fucking Apocalypse that killed many great men, greater than that piece of shit will _ever_ be!” Dean punched the bastard so he could stop talking and then looked down at him.

“My brother _stopped_ the Apocalypse by throwing himself in Lucifer’s jail cell with both Lucifer _and_ Michael. He suffered _centuries_ of torture because, let me educate you on something, I’ve been to Hell, I was there four months upside, down there, it was forty years. But I got lucky, in a way; I could get off the torture by torturing other souls. Sam, he never had that option. I took the opportunity to get off the rack and after thirty years I relented and right now, what I learned in hell, I’ll be using on _you_.” Dean brought up the pear and put it to the bastard’s lips, “Now, open that pretty, little mouth of yours like a good bitch.”

Dean knew the asshole wouldn’t do what Dean asked so he pinched the shitbag’s nose and waited for him to open his mouth for breath before he quickly stuffed the instrument in his mouth. Dean didn’t waste time turning the screws so that the segments opened up in his mouth. Dean watched with a sick satisfaction as Joe’s eyes grew bigger as Dean kept turning the screws to open it as much as he could.  By the time Dean had opened as much as it would go, Joe had tears coming out of his eyes, white lines around his mouth and his lips were so pale they seemed to be a part of Joe’s lips instead of lips.

Dean then went back to his bag and got out a few sharpened bamboo sticks. Dean got a chair and put it right in front of his victim so Dean could be comfortable while he continued with his job. He went to get one of Joe’s hands but he put them into a fist. Dean sighed and went to try to open the hand. After a few tries he gave up and said, “Fine, let’s start with your fucking feet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and the so little bit of torture. It was starting to get a bit long and I had just started with good ol’ Joe so I decided to make it into two parts. This way you get a chapter even if it’s only the beginning.   
> All mistakes seen here (and there will be many) are all my own.   
> Hope you liked.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues with Joe's torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural. I do however own the Scumbag named Joe…Yeah, I don’t like him either.
> 
> Warning: Torture scenes, mention of rape, non-con, actual rape, sexual torture, watersports, CBT, Dark Dean, 
> 
> Mention of suicide, and self-harm. Read at own risk.
> 
> Enjoy

An hour later and Joe’s scream could be heard even through the pear. His mouth was bleeding from being stretched for such a long time and his toe nails were now littered on the floor. Joe’s screams had died down to whimpers that could be heard even through the object in his mouth. Dean then went to take off the nails on the shitbag’s hands. He took his sweet time doing it and didn’t take the nail out all of once, no that would’ve been too quick. Dean kept chatting at Joe; saying random shit.

“Y’know, your friend, Harold, well I don’t know if you guys suspect something but it has been what, almost two months since I did him in? I kept it short for him, only a few hours. I’m going after the littlest fish to the biggest, the biggest being your good friend Fred. I’m doing you guys first to freak him out, to know someone better than him is hunting him down, like prey.” When Dean had taken out all the nails he got up and went to get salt and alcohol. He couldn’t help but to feel sadistic glee when he heard Joe’s scream which even through the pear was really loud. When all the salt and alcohol was gone Dean left Joe panting on the seat. Dean went to tend the fire place; it was starting to fill chilly.  Dean stared at the fire a few moments before his attention was diverted to a gurgling sound behind him.

“Oh no, you bastard, you don’t have the easy option out.” The fucktard was choking on his blood, it turned out. He had bitten his tongue almost off and was trying to kill himself. Dean wasn’t having any of that. Dean sewed the tongue back, with some effort as the jackass would keep trying to close his mouth, without any type of painkillers. Hey, might as well, he was there to cause as much pain as possible.

* * *

 

  
When that was done Dean gave a yawn saw the clock by the fireplace. It was one in the morning; no wonder he was tired. Of course he wasn’t nearly done with Joe; Dean wasn’t going to let him have the easy way out like his buddy Harold. Dean went the fire place and put the fireplace poker in the fire waiting for it to get red hot. Without warning he put the red hot poker on Joe’s thigh; Dean could smell the burning flesh and instead of gagging he couldn’t help but laugh at the smell of Joe’s burning flesh. He kept burning his captive in random places before stopping a few minutes later. He really was tired and needed to rest up.

First, Dean went into the kitchen and filled up a glass until it was overflowing with water. He then closed the son of a bitch’s nose until he opened his mouth and he force fed the water to his victim. He didn’t want Joe to get dehydrated now, would he?

Dean blindfolded the bastard even while he was still choking on water and went outside. He ordered the demons to stay with his tied up captive while he slept.

“And if he dies or escape, one of you’ll be the one tied to the chair, understood?” The demons gave a nod that left Dean satisfied. Then he got an idea.

“Actually, if you guys want to have fun with him, go ahead. I’m sure old Joe here won’t care who’s taking care of him, now would you?” Joe gave a whimper. Dean couldn’t help but laugh at Joe and the looks the Demons were give the man tied on the chair.

 Dean went further down the cabin to find a door that led to the bedroom. Dean had never slept in such a soft bed before.

OoOoOoOo

Dean woke up the next morning the sun shining in his face and the sound of skin on skin. Huh, that was unusual. He went out and saw the two burly male demons fucking Joe from both ends while the two female demons were grinning at the show and drinking beers.

“Ugh, warn a guy next time,” The demons paused; Dean would’ve laughed at how Joe was hanging of a demon’s dick if he wasn’t so disgusted.

“I’m going outside when I come back I want him tied to the chair, blindfolded and gagged.” He didn’t wait for a response and went outside to call home. Sam didn’t answer and freaked Dean out a bit so he called Castiel who answered in the first ring.

“Dean.”

“Hey Cas, how’s Sam, he didn’t answer his phone.”

“He is…sleeping.” Dean senses perked up.

“Cas…what did you do?”

“Nothing, I just, he hadn’t been sleeping and refused to go to bed so I put him to sleep.” Dean didn’t know what to say to that. On the one hand, Sam needed to sleep; on the other Dean didn’t like the idea that his brother had been forced to sleep, so he asked Cas, “Did he have any nightmares?”

“I made sure they were kept at bay.”

“Thanks,” he said honestly, Sammy could use a break from his dreams. Dean hung up and went into the cabin were Joe was all trussed up again. The demons quickly left when Dean entered; he waited until they were gone to go back to his bag of goodies. There was a particular instrument he liked to use, the knee splitter. It was a great device to inflict pain with but it would keep the victim alive.  Dean felt amusement when he saw Joe’s eyes widen with fear and trepidation.

“Like what you see? I used it on your good friend Harold. He fainted after I broke his first knee but I revived him with smelling salts. Don’t worry, you can faint all you want and I’ll bring you back,” he winked at the bound man, “that way, you won’t miss any of the action.”

Dean saw Joe tense as he fitted the device around his left knee. Dean didn’t wait; the moment it was fitted snuggly on Joe’s knee he started turning the two screws so that the knee breaking could began. Dean gave a turn of the screw and the device broke the knee; Dean gave credit when it was due, the jackass didn’t even faint, not like his friend did. He did, however, gave a loud ass scream through the gag that lasted for a minute or two before he tampered off into hurt whimpers and mewls.

Dean then grinned when he got an idea; Joe didn’t see it but if he had he would’ve shitted himself. Dean couldn’t help but perversely pick up the leg with the broken knee and try his best to get the leg as close as possible to Joe’s face. Joe threw his head back and gave a wail similar to that of a wounded animal. Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the bastard’s pain. Then Dean suddenly let go of the leg and Joe just fainted. Huh, well at least he did last more than the last one before fainting.

Dean let him be while he went to look for something. He found a clothes iron and a hot plate; Dean grinned at his two new toys. In the proper hands, anything can be a torture device. Dean went to look for an extension cord and when he found he connected to the closest plug in to so he could bring up to where he was having his session with Joe. He connected both the iron and the hot plate and waited for them to both heat up. After a while when Dean was convinced they were hot enough he took Joe’s right leg and put his foot on the hot plate, then he took up Joe’s left leg, the one with the broken knee, and put the iron on it.

The effects were immediate. As soon as Dean put Joe’s feet on the hot things, he woke up screaming and wailing. God, if doesn’t music to Dean’s ears. It was made even sweeter when Dean could see and feel Joe tensing and straining to get out of his bounds and the pain on his feet.

After two minutes, Dean took the iron off of Joe’s foot and let it fall; Joe seemed more out of it than anything. Then he disconnected the stove and took Joe’s other foot off it. Dean could tell Joe was out of it; probably shock entering his system. Dean went into the kitchen and got himself a beer. For Joe, he got a fifth of Jack’s Daniel. He took off the gag, letting a bunch of drool come out of his mouth, and then forced him to drink the liquor. Some of the liquor got out of his mouth which most likely caused the cuts around his lips to hurt. Dean stopped and left the asshole sputtering and gagging. Dean then put the gag back in his mouth and just as he was going to take the knee splitter off, his phone rang. Dean rolled his eyes and felt irritated at being interrupted mid torture when he saw that it was Sammy calling. He quickly went into the bedroom and closed the door to answer Sam’s call.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“De’n, you called earlier? I d’d’nt wake you?” Dean could hear the sleepiness in Sam’s voice which made him smile. He could just imagine Sammy’s sleep tired face and messy bed head.

“No, don’t worry. I’m just going to bed.”

“Really, Cas told me you called three hours ago and it’s eleven in the morning. How are you just going to bed?”

“Well, you know Vegas. Getting drunk and gambling until the sunrises. Plus I had breakfast, took a shower, and watched reruns of Gillian’s Island.” Dean hated lying to Sam but it was better than telling him, ‘oh, you know. Slowly killing one of your tormenters and making it as painful as possible.’ He knew that wouldn’t go over well.

“So you’re having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he answered with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, sounds like it. I’m going to go through more of the Men’s of Letters files. I just found a really interesting file on werewolf anatomy.”

“Geez, Sammy, just come to Vegas. Get laid, get drunk, gamble. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Though Dean wasn’t in Vegas if Sam said yes he would cut this short and be in Vegas before the day’s end.

“Uh, no, really Dean, I’m _more_ than fine here.” Dean knew that that had a double meaning but he didn’t push it.

“Anyway, go to sleep. I wouldn’t want to deprive you on more debauchery later today.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be careful, Sam. Call me if you need _anything._ ” ‘I’ll be there in a heartbeat if you

“Dean, I’m _always_ careful,” and his little brother hung up.

* * *

 

Dean stayed in the bedroom for a while after he hung up. He was worried about Sam. He knew Cas was there and would call Dean if anything happened, but still. It wasn’t the same as when he was there. He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard a knock.

He tensed before hearing a ‘Sir, are you alright?’ Now there were demons calling him sir. What has world come to? He opened the door and saw the shortest female demon standing right in front of him looking nervous. He ignored the demon and got out the door to where Joe was tied up. When he got there it smelled disgusting and was coming off the tortured man.

“Fuck, did you shit yourself? That is disgusting.” The demons was about to go out the door when he said, “Hey, make yourself useful and clean the overgrown baby up. While you’re at it,” he took the pear of anguish, “Put this in his filthy hole; wouldn’t want a repeat of this.”

The demon actually looked happy in doing what Dean asked. She went up to the man, took off the knee splitter (She unscrewed it a bit and took it down his legs, leaving big scratches and taking off pieces of skin.) then ripped the pants and underwear off. As soon as she did, the smell intensified making Dean wrinkle his nose. She then got up, got out a bowl and waited for the hot water so she could fill it up with the hot liquid. She went back to the tortured man and started throwing the water around the bound’s man genitals.

Dean laughed at the man’s scream. He didn’t even feel any sympathy pain, just kept laughing and mocking the jackass tied to the chair. When the demon was done, she put the pear up the bastard’s asshole without lube which produced another set of screams from the man.

“You know, in a lot of the videos I saw, you shitbags raped Sam without the benefit of some type of lubrication. How does it feel to be on the receiving end of that trick?” Joe of course couldn’t answer, not that Dean needed any.

 “Sir,” the demon said kind of shyly, “if I may make a suggestion.”

Dean waved her on, so far she’s been good at inflicting more pain on his prisoner; why not hear what she had to say? She seemed to get less shy and more excited after he acknowledged her.

“I can tie up the base or head of his penis so he may be unable to piss. This way he won’t make any more messes _and_ he would be unable to relieve himself making the pressure grow and grow. I have heard it is very painful.” Dean grinned wider and wider with every word she said.

“Well, don’t let me stop you, sweetheart.” She gave a delighted laugh before looking for some string. She came back with a thin cord and started tying it around Joe’s dick. When she was done, the douchebag was whimpering and his cock was starting to turn an angry red from the lack of circulation.

Dean dismissed the female and then he set out to look for a funnel. He had gotten an idea while the demon was tying Joe’s disgusting dick. He gave a triumphant yell when he found one. He got the bowl the demon was using earlier and filled it up with water; Joe was in too much pain to notice what Dean was doing. Dean waited for the water to heat up before filling the bowl up.

Then he went to the bag and got out and O-ring gag out of the bag. It was three inches in diameter meaning that Joe’s mouth was going to be in pain, again. He put the ring gag on Joe’s mouth and then went to make sure the funnel went to the back of his throat. The jackass gagged a little but dean ignored it. While holding the funnel, Dean let the water go into the mouth of one of Sam’s tormentors. Joe wasn’t able to swallow all the water making some come out of his nose and some to come back through his mouth causing more pain on Joe’s nasal cavity and hot water coming out his mouth and falling on the rest of his body.

Dean went back to sink and this time filled up the bowl with cool water and forced it to go down Joe’s gullet. After repeating this three times Dean could see that Joe’s stomach had gotten swollen with liquid; not to mention Joe seemed desperate for relief. Through the O-ring Dean could hear him begging for relief, Dean answered by pressing down on the fucktard’s stomach.

“If I remember correctly, in one of the videos I saw, you and all your perverted pals had given my little brother, my _kid_ , an enema and then had stuffed him up from all his orifices and made him beg for _hours_ until you let him do his business and even then you guys were humiliating him when he did his business.”

“I remember watching as every one of you sick, fucked up, _perverted_ assholes raped his mouth _repeatedly_ until you let him get relief! And here you are, asking me for mercy,” Dean gave a humorless laugh.

“You and the rest of your useless pals will receive no _mercy_ from me.” Dean kicked the bastard’s broken knee to emphasize the last word.

Dean left the crying man and went to the bathroom. Every time Dean blinked all he could see was his little brother begging. Begging for help, begging to be let go, begging for the pain to stop, begging to not get raped again. Just _begging_. Now this jackass had begged Dean for _mercy_. He wasn’t having any of that.

Dean washed his face with cool water to get the image of Sammy being tortured and raped from his brain. It didn’t work. He had to make an effort to calm his stomach down and not throw up.  It’s not as if there was anything in there anyway, he hadn’t eaten in almost two days. After he had calmed down some he did his business quickly and went back out to see a sobbing Joe.

“Ready for another go?” Joe sobbed harder.

OoOoOoOo

Finishing up skinning Joe’s left leg, Dean looked up to the clock and he saw it’s been five hours since he started. The sun was going down and Dean’s stomach decided to make itself known. By this point Dean had broken Joe’s other knee, taken Joe’s skin off strip by strip, and put salt at random intervals. Joe had fainted a few times but he made sure to wake him up with the smelling salts. The tortured man was still in pain but by this time he also seemed resigned to his fate. Dean knew how that went.

He decided to ignore good ol’ Joe for a while so he could eat. He raided his captive’s fridge and saw that he had a good selection of choice meat, delis and fresh looking fruit and vegetables. Joe maybe a douchebag and perverted but he did have good taste in food. Dean found ground beef, the good kind, cheese and hamburger buns. He grinned.

“Looks like I’ll be having a good dinner tonight. Hey Joe, you have any fries or potatoes,” he yelled towards the general direction of his captive. As expected, Joe didn’t answer. He kept rummaging around and found potatoes under the sink. Dean gave a triumphant ‘ah-ha’ before taking them out.

Dean began cooking for himself. He had even found some bacon to put on the burger. Forty minutes later he had made the best looking burger ever and homemade French fries. He went to sit at the table and started eating in front of Joe. Dean knew Joe hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday and he was eating in front of him on purpose. Let his stomach grumble from hunger, let his mouth water from the smell, but he wasn’t getting any. He would just watch Dean as he ate the delicious burger and fries. When Dean took the first bite he couldn’t help but give a moan of pleasure from the taste. He heard a whimper when after he took the first bite and looked up at Joe’s pleading eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I only made enough for me. See I have this rule not the share my food with perverts who like to rape and torture an innocent kid. You remember, that’s the reason I’m here and you’re tied to a chair? Because you dared put hands on my baby brother.”

Dean kept eating the burger in front of Joe and relished in seeing the hunger and misery in the other man’s eyes. Dean continued to eat his burger slowly, making content noises so that Joe could hear them and taking a swig of his beer in between bites.

After he finished eating he put the dishes in the sink and went back to Joe. Without saying anything he picked up the knife he was using to skin Joe’s legs. Since he still had the left thigh he began up there. He didn’t talk, didn’t make a sound, he was too involved in the skinning and he actually felt a sick type of peacefulness entering his body. Even while he heard Joe’s whimpers and muffled screams, even as blood was coating his shirt, hands, face, and pants he couldn’t have felt more placid in his mind. Dean went well into the early dawn skinning Joe’s legs, feet and arms.

* * *

 

Just as the clock struck six in the morning, Dean decided to get up and go take a quick shower. He was covered in blood and chunks of skin and he had to change clothes.

“Note to self, put on an apron next time.” Because there was going to be a next time. He called in the demons keeping guard to make sure Joe didn’t escape, though that happening was low as his legs were basically useless and he was a chunk of pain.

“Do whatever you like with him,” and with that note he went to clean himself.

The shower didn’t last long and when he got out he noticed how tired he was. He went to bed, deciding an hour or two were good enough to sleep.

OoOoOoOo

Dean woke up three hours later feeling refreshed. He got up and stretched before going out to the living room. When he got there he saw that the demons were not only putting salt on Joe’s muscles, but they were licking it and taking out chunks of it.

“Gross,” everyone in the room seemed to freeze when Dean spoke. Without being told the demons got up and left outside.

“Had fun? Don’t worry; as much as I would love to continue this little party, it’s going to end today. I have bigger fish to fry and better things to do than spend all my time with you. So, alas, even though we’ve had fun, it has to end. But first, I wouldn’t be a good host if I didn’t give a few more hours of fun.”

Dean patted Joe’s bloody leg before grinning. Joe stared back at Dean with resignation and fear.

He stayed seated a while longer before standing up and going to the table where the bag was. He took out the O-ring again and took out a pair of pliers. He showed the items to Joe who only gave a small shuddered and seemed resigned to his fate. He didn’t put up a fight when Dean went to put the ring gag on him. Dean smiled; he had broken Joe in a few days. Then the smile fell off is his face when he remembered how they’d broken his little brother. It had taken them almost two weeks (longer than this douchebag) but it had happened.

Dean felt anger coursing through his veins and suddenly put the plier in Joe’s mouth and after a few yanks he had taken off one Joe’s tooth. A spurt of blood hit his face just as he heard the muffled screams from Joe and, damn, if that didn’t cool his anger down.

 

Dean continued pulling off teeth from Joe’s mouth and after a while, there was too much blood for Joe to really scream. Dean found some gauze to put in the man’s mouth and then went to look for a sewing needle and thread.

While Dean was yanking teeth out his mind had taken him to a gruesome way to kill good ol’ Joe. It was so dark that if he had stopped to rationally think about it, his run would’ve ran cold and he would’ve been worried to the dark creases his mind was taking him. As it was, at the moment at least, he didn’t really give a flying fuck about it. His mind had supplied him with a good idea and he was going to put the plan into action now.

When he got the needle and thread he forced the soon to be dead bastards eyelids shut and then began sewing them together. Dean didn’t say anything, just let Joe whimper and beg for Dean to stop. Dean concentrated on the task at hand and hummed Metallica. Twenty minutes later he had finished the first eye and went to the second. Joe tried to keep his eyelid open but there really wasn’t any point. He was weak, starved and in pain, really, between him and Dean, there was no contest.

As soon as he finished the second eyelids, Dean gave Joe a slap in the back and started talking.

“Well, like I said earlier, it’s been fun but, it has to stop now. Don’t worry, you’ll see your other friends soon and I’m pretty sure Harold will give you a warm welcome. Oh, also, I’ve made a deal with the King of Hell. Even though your souls were damned for Hell to begin with, I’ve made sure they’ll always stay in Hell and you’ll be tortured for the rest of eternity. Really, you should think of what I’ve been doing to you as a practice run. Trust me, when you get down there, what I did to you will feel like a, hmm, well maybe a paper cut in comparison.”

Dean left Joe to ponder his words by himself in the dark. Dean went to the Impala and got a gallon of gasoline he had for emergency and then told the demons, “almost done boys and girls.”

He got inside and didn’t say anything; just started packing away his bag of toys and then he went up to Joe.

“Good bye, Douchewad.”

He then poured gasoline into Joe’s mouth and proceeded to sew Joe’s mouth shut. As soon as he finished with that task he salted Joe and then poured gasoline on him. He took out a camera he had bought for this occasion and took a few shots of poor, tortured, bound Joe. Then he threw a match on Joe’s body and walked out of the cabin without looking back.

In the end, he tortured Joe for exactly three days, right down to the last minute.

* * *

 

Crowley had seen many things in his time in hell but seeing the extent of damage done by just _one_ man well…Crowley was impressed.

“So you’ll print out the pictures and send them to the two remaining douchewads so they could see someone is hunting them down.”

“Yes, Winchester,” he told them while handing the camera to one of his minions, “I’ll make sure they’re scared good and proper. By the way, can I interest you a job as one my head torturers, because really this,” he pointed to the camera, “is just a beautiful masterpiece.”

Dean stared back at him with hard, unamused eyes and a terrifying expression on his face.

“Never mind, I can tell you have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Winchester said nothing to Crowley and got into the car. Crowley stared after the piece of scrap metal until he couldn’t see it anymore. He then turned to his demons and stared them down until they began fidgeting.

“So, how was the show?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter done. I hope you liked and the torture scenes weren’t too over the top.
> 
> Again, I don’t usually ask for reviews, but please tell me if the torture scenes were okay and not to over the top or not enough.
> 
> Don’t know when I’ll update again but hopefully it’ll be soon. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Hoped you enjoyed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural and any recognizable characters. They belong to their rightful owners, I’m just borrowing them.  
> Non-explicit rape scene.

Dean had ended up going to Vegas. The first night was fun; he had suckered and cheated to line up his wallet with a nice hefty amount of cash, he had hooked up with two girls for a threesome and he had gotten so drunk that at the moment he could’ve sworn he was the King of the World and had, literally, howled at the Moon. Obviously, the next morning had not been pretty.

Still he got up, at midafternoon and called Sam. Sammy had sounded okay but something was nagging at the back of Dean’s head. They talked a while and Dean stayed in Vegas. Well, he stayed for three more days. At first he was having fun but as the hours passed he missed his brother like a missing limb. He would worry about Sam and it would take everything he had not to call Cas or Sam every few minutes. So on the fourth day he packed up and headed towards the bunker.

 

Dean returned the bunker just as the sun was setting. He had bought a large pizza with all of Sammy’s favorite (disgusting) toppings. He couldn’t wait to see his little brother again and see for himself that Sam was fine. Dean made his way into the bunker and he went straight to the library, knowing that’s where Sam liked to be. He was surprised when he saw Cas flipping through a book and not Sam reading. Castiel looked up at Dean as if surprised that he was there. Well, he did say two weeks.

“Dean, I didn’t expect you here so soon.”

“Uh, yeah,” he started, looking around for his brother while putting the pizza down, “I got bored and decided to come early. Where’s Sam?”

“He’s in his room…resting,” Cas blocked Dean’s way as he was going to Sammy’s room, “I think he needs to be alone for a while.”

“Cas…what’s wrong,” he asked, fear clogging his throat closed.

“Nothing, he has just—he’s been a bit depressed and it’s better if he’s… Where are you going?”

“I told you to call me if something went wrong,” he told Cas sharply, “Not let my depressed, suicidal, little brother lock himself in his room.”

“Dean he’s fine,” Dean opened the door to Sam’s room and slammed it on the angel’s face. Sam looked up in surprise and took off the headphones he had. There were tear tracks on his face and his eyes were full of misery.

“Hey, uh, Dean,” he tried to wipe his face with his sleeve, “I didn’t expect you here so soon.”

“Yeah, well, Vegas ain’t the same without my little brother as my wingman,” Dean thought it best to not acknowledge the sorrow coming off of Sammy in waves; Sam would tell him about it on his own time. He walked up to Sam’s bed and sat down by him and kept talking.

“It was kind of fun though. Got to have a threesome,” Sam wrinkled his nose up in disgust, it looked so adorable on him, “and I was able to swindle a good amount of cash off of dumbasses that had too much money and way too many beers.”  Sam gave a sad smile; it looked like it hurt him to even do that.

“I bought pizza. It has all your favorite toppings on it.”

“I’m not hungry, maybe later,” he responded with a despondent tone.

Dean couldn’t help it anymore; he got a hold of Sam and dragged Sam by his side. Dean left his arms around Sam and stroked one of Sam’s arms with his thumb. Sam went stiff for a moment before relaxing into the embrace.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?”

“I don’t know. I feel depressed. I can’t seem to get energy to do anything and I want to stay in bed all day and maybe disappear.”

Dean said nothing and put his cheek on top of Sammy’s head. They stayed like that in silence until Sam’s eyes were drooping with exhaustion. Dean got up and tucked his little brother in.

“Dean,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I know how hard it is for you to let them go but, thanks for doing so.” Dean felt he was suckered punched; his heart stopped and then go up to his throat.

_No, Sammy, I haven’t let them go and I’m sorry for that,_ the words got stuck in his throat and Dean could only stay silent while his brother fell asleep.

 

Castiel watched as Dean picked up the now cold pizza and went towards the direction of the kitchen to presumably put it away. The moment he came back he got a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured the drink and with one gulp, drank the liquor before pouring himself another one.

“Rough week?”

“It started out fine, then my little brother thanked me for not going after the bastards, heh,” he took another shot, “Worst part is, not even you know the half of it.”

Castiel looked at his friend. He has gone and fallen back into his favorite pastime; drinking and condemning himself.

“That kid,” another shot, “I’ve fucked him over time and time again. Blamed his for shit that wasn’t his fault and still, he forgives me just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and then believes every piece of shit that comes out of my mouth,” he chuckled, “don’t know where he got that cuz me and dad, well we hold on to shit even if it kills us.”

Castiel said nothing as his friend drank himself into oblivion.

 

Dean dreamt. He was in a dank, dark basement; he could feel the cold seeping into his bones. He walked deeper into the darkness and was in high alert. After a while he could hear a soft sobbing that he knew anywhere; it was Sammy crying.

“Sam!” he walked around hoping to find his brother.

“Sammy!”

He stumbled on something warm and looked down to find a fifteen year olds naked Sam.

“Sammy, what happened?”

“Why’d you let them, Dean? Why weren’t you here to help me?”

“Sam, what—?” Sam got up and his pale skin was littered in hand shaped bruises on his thighs, hips and legs. His lips were busted and there were tear tracks on his face. But what got Dean’s attention weren’t all the bruises. No, it was the blood running down Sam’s pales thighs.

“Sammy,” he went to get a hold of Sam and Sam flinched away.

“Why weren’t you here to help me? You said nothing bad would ever happen to me!”

Dean closed his eyes and when he opened them it was a fully grown Sam that was on the ground and was being raped in front of him by the bastards that held him for a month.

“No!” he tried to stop it but there was an invisible barrier on the way. He kept pounding on the barrier and screamed himself hoarse. When he saw Fred look up with a knife going into his brother’s back, Dean woke up sweaty and gasping for breath.

He looked around his room willing his heartbeat and breathing to go to a normal level. When he had calmed down a little he got up and went to Sam’s room, needing to see that he was okay. He went into to Sam’s room to see his little brother sleeping with a fist curled up to his mouth. Dean stayed there, watching his little brother sleep before he bit the bullet and laid down by his younger brother.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Not long I know but I hope you liked it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural. Just using the characters to play with them for a while.  
> Warning: Explicit Rape Scenes, dp, whipping, non-con  
> Enjoy.

 

Dean continued having nightmares. They all involved Sam getting raped in front of him without being able to stop it from happening and it always ended with Sam getting killed one way or another. By that point in time, Dean would wake up with a ‘no’ being ripped out of his mouth. The lack of sleep and the nightmares had him keeping his eyes on Sam and he could tell Sam hated it.

Sam would try to shake Dean off but Dean would always find him and use one excuse or another as to why he always stuck around. Sam seemed to get more agitated day after day and Dean knew it was his fault. A week later, Sam finally snapped.

“What is your damage?” he asked angrily, “I have done nothing to earn your distrust. I haven’t even looked at a blade to cut or a gun to kill myself with and here you are following me around as if I’m mental. It’s like the first weeks all over again! What the hell did I do to earn your distrust again?”

“Nothing, Sammy.”

“Then leave me the hell alone!” Sam closed the book he was reading in one of the storage rooms and stormed into his room. Dean stood in the room Sam had occupied, feeling like shit. How could he tell his brother of the nightmares he had every fucking night? He couldn’t, the kid would feel bad and would find a way to blame himself.

“Trouble?” Dean turned around at hearing Cas’ voice.

“No, everything is peachy keen,” he replied sarcastically.

“What’s wrong?”

“None of your business,” Dean went out of the room leaving a frowning Castiel standing in the hallway.

Dean went to his room and closed the door. He got his laptop and any random DVD of his brother’s rape and played it. It started with Harold raping Sam. Harold was sitting on the bed and had Sam on his lap, his back to Harold’s chest. Dean could tell Harold was raping his brother with his hips moving up and down.

_‘Hey pretty bitch, don’t worry. I’ll make it good for you.’_ Harold got hold of Sam’s flaccid penis and began pumping it. Sam’s head was thrashing about and he kept saying ‘no’ over and over again.

_‘Shh, you’ll like it, pretty one. Don’t worry, I’ll take such good care of you, you can always trust on me.’_ Sam’s penis had already filled up with blood and there was pre-cum on the slit. Sam was openly sobbing now.

_‘Can’t wait…to have…you…ugh…’_ Harold was pumping his hips faster now, looking for his release, _‘with me. I’ll take such good care of you and you’ll be so happy to see me, won’t you? You’ll want to please me like a good boy.’_ Harold gave a deep groan and stilled his hips, coming in Sam. Sam was sobbing even louder and then he came. Sam bowed his head in shame.

Suddenly, Billy, Roy’s cousin was in the frame.

_‘Hey, Bill.’_

Billy ignored him and went to get a whip from the wall. Sam gave a whimper of fear.

_‘C’mon Bill. Can’t you just enjoy his sweet ass and stop hitting him?’_

_‘Fuck no, because of this useless whore my cousin’s dead. It’s time he learned that going to the dark side has consequences that involve pain.’_ Without warning he lifted the whip and hit Sam right on the chest. Sam gave a tortured scream before he was left heaving.

_‘Fuck, Bill, let me move first before you hit me, asshole.’_

_‘Then hurry up and get off, dumbass. I want to play with the littlest Winchester._ ’ Harold took no time to get off and as soon as he did Billy took ahold of Sam’s hair and forced him off the bed to the ground. Sam gave a yelp at the rough treatment and then he was led across the room. Sam was forced to crawl on his hands and knees and led to a bench that Dean recognized from watching porn. It was used to punish people with whips, canes or paddles. Dean knew what Billy was going to do and it turned his blood cold. Billy brought a resisting Sam up and tried to tie him on the bench.

‘ _Fuck, Harold, help me with this bitch.’_ Harold went up and held Sam’s kicking legs down while Billy went to tie Sam’s hands to the bottom of spanking bench legs.

_‘I suggest you let this happen, pretty girl, or Bill will make it worse.’_ Sam stopped struggling and Harold brought Sam’s legs apart before tying them up. Without warning Billy hit Sam’s bottom with the whip. Sam’s body jerked trying to get away from the pain before Billy brought it down over and over again. After a while, Billy took off every restraint and brought Sam’s limp less body to the floor and without warning entered Sam. Sam didn’t even scream, just tensed up as Billy pumped in and out of Sam’s body.

  _‘Hey, no fair, I want some of that action.’_

_‘Then you’d better join in, brother.’_ Without being told twice Harold got under Sam and they both started hammering in and out of Sam at the same time. Sam struggled weakly as his backside was being rubbed against the rough carpet. Both men took their pleasure without any consideration of Sam’s needs. Dean wished he could bring Harold back to fuck him over even more. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice that someone had come in until he heard a strangled cry. Dean looked up and his heart stopped for a second. Sammy.

OoOoOoOo

“Sammy,” Dean ran after Sam and followed him to his room. Dean put his foot in front of the door before Sam closed it to his face. Sam ignored Dean and started packing his clothes.

“Sam…Sammy, speak to me.”

Sam ignored him and finished packing his clothes and put some knives and a gun on top of the duffel bag before closing it. Dean stood in Sam’s way to his only exit and refused to budge. He knew his brother was humiliated and hurt but Dean wasn’t going to let him leave without explaining himself.

“Sam,” he was interrupted.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Where did you even get that video?” Dean kept quiet and Sam scoffed

 “Yeah, the only one way you could’ve gotten it, you completely ignored me and went after them didn’t you?”

“Sam, I,” he sighed and slid his hand down his mouth, “I’ve only gone after two of them, okay? The videos, I got them from _that_ house.”

“You mean Fred’s house, don’t you,” Sam gave a dark laugh, “and here I thought you had actually listened to me and let it go. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

“How can you expect me to let it go, Sam? They tortured you, raped you, humiliated you and you want me to let those scum of the Earth to continue breathing!”

“I was hoping for once you would pay attention to what _I_ needed, not to what you wanted.” Dean was stunned into silence with Sam’s whispered confession. Sam spent no time in taking Dean’s surprise to push him out of the way and leaving the room.

“Where are you going, Sam?” They both passed Castiel who was seated in the library; he had looked up at the Winchesters curiously.

“Somewhere, don’t know where but I can’t even look at you.”

Dean followed Sam out the bunker with Cas right behind them. Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder not expecting what happened next. Sam turned and yelled, “Don’t touch me,” before punching Dean in the face.

The blow was unexpected and it threw Dean on his ass. He quickly got up and stood there, waiting for another punch. Dean had punched or beat Sam up loads of time before and his baby brother would stand there, doing nothing but waiting for it. If Sam wanted to beat the shit out of Dean, he wouldn’t lift a finger to protect himself. But Sam didn’t punch him instead he fell to the ground, brought his knees up, rocked himself and started crying; it was worse than if Sam had shot him.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Dean crouched down to be on eye level with Sam. Sam looked up at Dean, misery and shame written all over his face.

“Sorry, you’re sorry. Why couldn’t you have let it go, why did you watch those videos? You couldn’t have at least left me my dignity! Did you really think I would want you seeing me like that, weak and useless? I didn’t, but you only thought about your own feelings and left mine out of your brain. I can’t even look at you without thinking about you seeing me raped, without thinking that you’ll see me as weak, or worse, with pity!”

“Sam, I would _never_ think you’re weak! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, everyone we know is nothing compared to how brave you are little brother. Please, believe me!”

Sam pushed Dean and got up. Dean stayed where he was, looking at his brother’s expression. He looked lost, angry and so sad. But most of all he looked betrayed. Dean had done that, he had betrayed his brother.

“You could have left me at least the last bit of dignity I had last,” Sam whispered and walked away from Dean.

“Wait! Sam, take the Impala, at least.”

Sam ignored him and kept walking. Dean felt Cas walk pass him and go towards Sam’s direction.

“Please, Cas...”

“I’ll look after him, but not for you. I’m doing it because Sam needs someone he can trust.”

Dean winced at the barb Castiel threw at him, knowing he deserved it.

“I don’t care why you do it Cas, just please, _please_ keep him out of harm’s way.” Castiel gave a nod towards Dean and went to catch up to Sam. Dean stayed on the floor feeling like his whole Universe had crumbled.

 

“Sam, wait,” Castiel was jogging up to the younger man. He didn’t want to appear in front of him and startle him. Though bullets couldn’t hurt him it didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying to be shot at.

“Leave me alone, Cas, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you don’t” he had caught up to Sam and got in front of him, “but you do need a friend.” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise; that pained the angel. He knew that in the beginning of their meetings Castiel hadn’t exactly been…friendly, but he’d like to think that he and Sam were friends.

“Okay, if you want,” Sam answered hesitantly. Castiel said nothing and walked beside Sam. He knew the younger Winchester needed to think but he needed someone close to him. Castiel was also lost in his thoughts.

Sam was more than hurting. He was weary and feeling lonely. Castiel knew he couldn’t do much for the young man. After he had broken down Sam’s wall and then taken his insanity, Castiel has had an emotional connection with the youngest Winchester. It wasn’t the same he had with Dean, it was more…well, he couldn’t explain it.

Castiel remembered when Naomi had tried to force him into doing what she wanted him to do. He was close to killing Samandriel when he felt a sharp pain in his heart. He immediately got out of his trance and knew it had come from Sam. Castiel was so lost in thought he almost missed the question.

“Did you know what Dean was doing?” He hesitated for a moment.

“Yes, I knew what he was doing and that he was watching the videos.”

Sam gave a huff. That huff soon turned into full blown laughter that had Sam doubling over. Castiel looked up and down the street to make sure no one was around before he flew Sam and himself to Rufus’ cabin. Sam was still laughing and Castiel was honestly starting to fear for the younger Winchester. Had Sam lost his mind? Just as he was going to ask what wrong Sam’s laughter turned into tears.

“Sam, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not. I’m fucked up and fucked at the same time.” Castiel didn’t know what to say. He sat by his friend and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“It’ll it get better.”

Sam gave a watery, broken smile.

“I doubt it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for taking so long to update. I know the chapter is short and I’m sorry for that. I hope you liked it.   
> I will try to update soon but I’m taking summer classes so I don’t know when.   
> Thanks for reading.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean contemplates on how to keep Sam safe and Sam does his own hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, just borrowing them for a moment.  
> Enjoy.

 

Dean sat in the library nursing a beer; he was considering getting something stronger. He was verbal punching himself in the nuts. He had driven his little brother away; again. He took another swig out of his beer and considered his next options. He had to take the threat out of Sam’s life.   
Now that he was away from Dean’s watchful eyes (he knew Cas was more than capable of helping Sam with any threat but he couldn’t _take care_ of Sam.) he knew he had to get rid of the last two stains from the Earth. Dean had to act quickly, they both knew that someone was after them and they could go after Sam, thinking it was him. But first there was something he had to do.

He went to his room, got every last DVD of Sam being raped and tortured and took them outside. He salt and burned the DVDs. He shouldn’t have ever watched them. He should’ve told Sam he had found him and gone after the bastards even if Sam disagreed. At the very least his little brother would be safe in the Bunker at the moment instead of out there in the world. No, Dean was going to take out the threat to his baby brother, even if it killed him. He took out his phone and waited to be answered.

“Hello, love.”

“I’m ready to end this,” he said, resolved. God have mercy on whoever stood in his way.

OoOoOoOo

 

Castiel watched the younger Winchester like a hawk. He knew that he had to make sure Sam didn’t harm himself. Sam was depressed at the moment and that worried the angel. From what he had noticed, Sam being depressed ended up with alcohol, self-harm, and/or suicidal tendencies. Castiel wouldn’t let Sam fall into those traps again. Not if he could help it, anyway.

“Cas, I’m not going to do anything, promise.” Castiel said nothing and he heard the young man sigh.  They both sat in silence and Castiel was about to suggest that Sam eat when Sam got up and trifled through his luggage. Castiel cocked his head, curious as to what the youngest Winchester was doing. Was he going to produce a bottle of alcohol? Because if he was Castiel would have to _insist_ that Sam ate first. Sam took out a few books and brought them to the table. Castiel was even more confused.

“I want to look for Crowley and try to get the Demon Tablet, it can’t be good that he has it and Kevin and Mrs. Tran our out of the safe house. I was going to bring it up to Dean but had no idea how to do so without him going all mother hen on me.” He snorted.

“That’s a good idea, I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.” Castiel nodded and sat by Sam. He would rather Sam concentrated on hunting down the King of Hell then thinking of other things. This would be a good distraction and they would be getting a powerful tool away from Crowley. They both planned well until the afternoon.

 

OoOoOoOo

Crowley stared at Dean Winchester. He seemed more murderous if that was possible; he briefly wondered what had happened to drive the horrible mood on the elder Winchester but kept his mouth shut. Ally or not, at the moment he felt if he did something wrong Dean would not hesitate to kill him.

“I assume you’ll want my demons here.”

“What do you think?” he bit out, angrily.

“I think you need to unwind before you break yourself.” Dean turned his face to Crowley and the King of Hell thought he felt death pass through his dark, twisted soul. He kept his mouth shut and stared at direction of the doomed man.

Billy was cutting fire wood, oblivious of the man that was hunting him. After the other two had bit the bucket, Billy and Fred had gone into hiding and gotten paranoid. They’ve set up every protection they could against supernatural forces. They were cocky, though. They thought they could hold their own against any human and that would be their downfall. Even now, their two doomed friends were crying and weeping because of what was happening to them. Crowley made sure they knew what was in store for them with a few surprises thrown into the mix.

  
So, Squirrel, how you’re going to get this one?”

Dean said nothing, brought up his gun and shot the man. Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for it being so short even though you guys have waited a while for it. I’m taking summer classes so they take up most of my time. 
> 
> That being said, I have some bad news and good news.
> 
> Bad news: In a few chapters this story is done.
> 
> Good news: I’m not done with this series. I’m going to make a timestamp and I’m thinking of writing what Sam went through when he was raped and tortured. It really depends if you guys want that story. 
> 
> Happy Fourth of July, to all my fellow Americans and everyone else, you’ll are awesome and thank you for sticking with me for so long.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Billy's turn for the hot seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural.  
> Warning: Torture

Dean walked up to man he had just shot in the leg and punched him the face, repeatedly. He was pissed at these assholes, he was scared for Sammy, he was angry at himself but mostly he was pissed at these assholes. He kept punching and punching until the guy blacked out. Dean was tempted to keep punching him but decided not to. He wanted to start the torture. He dragged the guy into the cabin.

Dean didn’t even look take a good look at the interior; he was too focused on the man he was dragging across the floor. Dean hoisted the man up on a sturdy chair and tied the bullet wound up. He wouldn’t die but it sure was going to be painful as all fuck. He then tied the Billy to the chair and felt too impatient to let him wake by himself so he found a bucket, filled it with water, and threw it at the man’s face. Billy came awake while sputtering water from his mouth.

Billy looked up at Dean and gave a sneer, “Winchester.”

“So you know who I am.”

“Of course, there were rumors you were back. You assholes can never seem to stay dead; and after my friends, _my best friend_ being one of them, ended up dead, it didn’t take me a long time to put two and two together.”

“So you know why I’m here,” Dean’s voice was as cold as the artic.

“To kill me for fucking that bitch you call a brother.”

Dean didn’t even give a warning; he kicked Billy right where he had gotten shot. Dean used that opportunity to put a gag in the shape of penis in Billy’s mouth (Crowley really did put everything in the bag.), Dean didn’t want to listen to his victim right now. Billy didn’t look scared, he looked pissed off and was screaming behind the gag. Huh, Dean had to remedy that. He went to his bag and rummaged around until he came upon to iron hot plates.

Dean went up to Billy, who by the way was still angrily yelling through the penis gag, Dean had a thought of just cutting the asshole’s tongue out but put it away for later. Dean untied the first leg and held on tight because he knew the bastard would fight; he was right. Dean then put a good amount of oil on the foot and then put the iron plate under his foot and something to hold it off the floor and did the same with the other one. Dean then put some coals on and let them burned. He knew it would take a while but he wanted to see the bastard squirm.

Dean looked through the bag again and took gave a chilly smile that would’ve frozen the heart of the toughest monsters. He took out something called a heretics fork. It consisted of a metal piece with two opposed bi-pronged forks attached to a belt or strap. One end of the device was pushed under the chin, the other to the sternum, and the strap was used to secure the victim’s neck to the tool. With it on Billy would be forced to keep his chin up unless he wanted the forks to poke his chin and chest. Dean knew that at first it wouldn’t be so bad but after a while, when Billy would start getting tired, it would give Dean a good show. Dean showed the bastard the instrument and he saw Billy’s eyes widen.   

“Wait, do you know what this is? Well, ain’t that just peachy keen? Seems like you’ll be getting a taste of your own medicine.”

Dean walked up to the bound man, who was starting to squirm because of the plates heating up, and tried to move his head around so Dean wouldn’t put the forks around his neck. In the end, though, Dean did. By this point in time, Billy’s feet were starting to smell because of the heat. Dean knew he should be repulsed by the smell of burning flesh but he thought of how scared Sam has been and how he’s out there in danger because of these douchebags and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The tortured man couldn’t even thrash around without the fork around his neck hurting him. Dean stared at the man with a crazy, gleeful smile and even while burning the Billy saw that Dean’s eyes held nothing but insanity and a sick kind of happiness and that told Billy, if nothing else could’ve of, that his and he should have never went after Sam Winchester.

 

Dean let Billy’s feet burn for half an hour. When he took off the iron plates the sole of Billy’s feet were gone and smoke was curling away from them. The owner of the feet was whimpering behind the gag with his chin still high lest he poked himself again with the fork; already there was blood coming down from his neck and chest from where he hurt himself with the thing.

Dean gave a whistle when he examined his victim’s feet, “Seems like you’ll never be able to use these puppies again. Shame.”

Dean went to get a riding crop from the bag and hit the bottom of Billy’s feet. Apparently, some of the nerves still hadn’t been damaged because the fucktard lasted a full minute before pissing himself and feinting. Well, he lasted longer than the first two guys.

Dean left Billy how he was and went through the fridge till he found a beer. He proceed to drink at the only table and sat there with his thoughts. _Was Sammy okay?_ Billy Carlsen may be here tied up in front of Dean but there was still the main one at large. Dean knew Fred knew someone was hunting him down what if he decided to go after Sam? Even with Castiel around, Dean felt horror at the thought of his baby brother without Dean around to protect him.

Dean took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until it got to Sam’s number. He called and waited and, as he predicted, it went straight to voice mail. Dean felt like he was going crazy without speaking to his brother. Dean then called Cas’ phone and started freaking out when that also went straight to voice mail. He alternated in calling Sam and Castiel’s phone but neither answered. He was about to have a heart attack when Castiel answered the twelfth time.

“Is everything alright, is Sammy?”

“Sam’s fine, Dean,” Dean felt relief and then he felt straight up fury.

“Why the fuck didn’t you fucking answer, you asshole?!”

“Apologies,” The angel far too calm for Dean’s taste, “I did not have my phone with me and I was with Sam.” Dean anger’s deflated a little at the mention of his brother.

“How is Sammy?” he asked softly.

“He is surprisingly well, considering,” Yeah, considering, “Right now he is keeping occupied with a hunt.”

“A hunt? What kind of hunt?”

“Do not worry, Dean, it isn’t a terribly dangerous one, it involves some ghost and I’ll be with him so he won’t get hurt, I promise.”

“Thanks, Cas, it’s just that…Well, I don’t like being away from him.”

“Of course. I am trying to convince him to forgive you or at least talk with you.”

Dean gave a rueful smile, “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, it would probably be easier if you gave up your vendetta.” Billy decided to wake up at that moment and, even with the gag, he gave a loud groan.

“You’re torturing one, right now?” The angel seemed mad when he said the next thing.

“You know I just can’t, Cas. They have to pay. Take care of Sammy for me, I’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up and looked at the whimpering man that had more blood running down his chest; now Dean knew why he woke up, the fork pierced him real good while he was unconscious. Dean ignored the tortured man and went back to his bag of goodies to take out his favorite instrument; the knee splitter. Dean actually wanted to hear Billy now so he wouldn’t be able to hear his thoughts so he took out the penis gag. To the man’s credit, he didn’t beg for mercy, just whimpered and gave Dean a look of pure hatred. Dean smiled at the man and got to work on the right knee. It didn’t take long for screams to fill the little cabin.

OoOoOoOo

Castiel hung up on Dean and felt his insides do a small, well something. It felt uncomfortable. He walked back to where the youngest Winchester was seated looking over books. They had both tried summoning Crowley but it had been for nothing. The King of Hell had never shown up. Now, Sam was doing everything he could to uncover anything of the Demon tablet. Castiel himself was trying to uncover about any mentions of the Angel Tablets but to no avail. They both knew that the only way to uncover any information was from Crowley.

Unless, of course, Castiel went back to Heaven but he’d rather avoid having his head messed with at the moment. So they both ended up trying to uncover secrets from books and come up with a way to get to Crowley. Sam had proposed going after lesser demons but Castiel had nipped that idea from the bud.

Sam hadn’t been sleeping well and hunting demons wasn’t going to be in his agenda anytime soon. Not unless Castiel was to convince Sam to sleep for a while but he knew that wouldn’t be easy. Sam was stubborn and with the nightmares in the mix it would be next to impossible to convince him to sleep for a few hours. Still, though, Castiel was an angel and he didn’t need any of his grace to make the youngest fall asleep. Even now, Sam’s body was starting to shut down with fatigue and Castiel knew it would be sooner rather than later when Sam will fall asleep and the angel would be there to make sure Sam had a restful, nightmare free sleep. After all, he had promised Dean to take care of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it’s not that good. I’m busy with summer classes and can’t really think. Still, here’s another chapter and I hope you liked it. Next up, more torture, Sam and Cas find out more of Dean’s secrets and then Fred will get his comeuppance.   
> All mistakes are my own.   
> Hope you enjoyed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t owe Supernatural or any recognizable characters.  
> Warning: Torture, Non-con, rape, DP, mention of watersports

Dean woke up the next morning feeling well rested. Outside he could hear the demons laughing as they presumably tortured Billy. Dean relaxed at hearing the man’s muffled screams; yep, he has completely lost it and couldn’t bring himself to care about his lost sanity. Mainly is because he was too worried about Sam and he liked getting his revenge on the bastards. Dean stayed in bed a while longer before going in the conjoined bathroom to take care of business and take a nice, long, hot shower. He did so enjoy the water pressure. He quickly got dressed and went outside to see two demons in Billy’s ass at the same time.

Dean just watched as the first two demons finished and then the female demons whipped Billy’s genitals and ass. Dean felt a sick sense of accomplishment at watching the man’s desperation and pain. The demons dropped the man to the floor and he feinted. Dean gave a humorless smile to the demons.

“Had fun,” they nodded, “glad to hear so. Now I need you guys to do me a favor hammer some nails into that wooden seat.”

The demons returned Dean’s smile with delighted, twisted laughs of their own.

 

Forty minutes later and Dean was waking Billy up with smelling salt. The man woke up coughing. He looked confused for a second before his face twisted into pain and then he looked up; Dean was smiling down at his victim.

“Morning, sunshine, how’d you sleep?”

“Fuck y—ahh!” Dean had stepped on Billy’s fucked up knees.

“Now, is that anyway to treat your guest?” Dean picked up the dead weight that was Billy and half dragged, half carried the man to the chair that now had nails sticking out from the seat, back support, and arm’s rest. Billy didn’t see any of it so it was fun to see his eyes widen before he gave a broken scream. Dean proceeded to tie the man tight enough so he wouldn’t escape but loose enough so he would get used to the nails digging into him.

“So, I made fixed up the bullet wound, wouldn’t want you to die of an infection now, would we?” Billy said nothing, he was too busy breathing hard and somehow trying to catch his breath at the same time. Billy would give out groans and whimpers from the nails digging into his flesh. Dean walked up to the tortured man and put pressure on his body so the nails would dig deeper into him. Billy seemed to only be able to give a grunt of pain, his voice all but wrecked.

Dean ignored the whimpering man and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. He made himself a sandwich and thought for a second whether or not he should drink a beer considering how early in the morning and was.

“Fuck it,” he told himself, there was a whimpering man sitting on a chair with nails embedded into it, drinking alcohol at eight in the morning should be the least of his problems in the world. Dean stared at the man he had hurt but felt like it wasn’t enough. Dean remembered all of his brother’s screams when he had a nightmare, he remembered his brother’s lost, sad eyes, how the hope had been sucked out of him. He saw the haunted looks his brother would get when he had too much time on his hands, the unshed tears marring his eyes.

Dean’s cold, fury was replaced with burning, hot enragement at the man before him. Dean could tell the man was thirsty with how enviously he was staring at the beer in Dean’s hand and that brought back the image of the man before him pissing in his little brother’s mouth after asking for water and laughing at the humiliated look Sammy had had in his eyes. Then Dean remembered that last time he had saw his younger brother which felt like years instead of two days ago. He clearly remembered the betrayed, inferior, vulnerability in his little brother’s eyes when Sam caught Dean looking at the videos. And Dean knew just who was at fault and one of those people was in front of him looking at him as if asking for mercy. He still _dared_ to ask for mercy when he had given Sam none of it. Dean broke.

He didn’t remember doing so but he had lunged at the Billy and when Dean came to Billy was on the floor, gasping with new bruises on his face. Dean’s own voice was hoarse when he spoke to Billy and he was almost a hundred percent sure he had shouted at the bastard.

“You thirsty, asshole? Remember when my brother was and you gave him your piss like if he was something lower than an animal? Don’t worry, I won’t do that, I’ll give you some water.”

Dean went up to the sink and let the water get hot enough that steam was coming out of it. He got a rag and filled a rather big bowl with the hot liquid. He went up to Billy and put the towel over his mouth and tied it around his neck. Dean then proceeded to throw the hot water on the towel ensuring Billy felt as if he were drowning in hot water.

“Hope you find it refreshing, asshole!”

Billy’s eyes were bulging while he was trying to breathe through the rag which Dean knew from experience only ensured that the drowning feeling intensified. Dean only ended up pouring half of the water on Billy’s face because he didn’t want his victim to die just yet. No, he deserved a more painful death.

Dean took off the rag from the man’s face and saw the water had left first and second degree burns. Billy was coughing back up the hot water and after a few minutes he stopped. The man was giving out ragged, broken breaths out. Dean laughed, he wished he could he had saved the drowning bit for last but his emotions had gotten the best of him. He would just have to try to leave the life threatening tortures out and give out lighter punishments. After all, it’s only been a little over two days.

OoOoOoOo

Sam had finally crashed, to put in Dean’s words. After almost three days of not sleeping Sam’s body had decided enough was enough and it shut down for its much needed rest. Sam had spent much of his time trying to find Crowley and, though Castiel wanted to get his hands on the King of Hell, he was glad that all attempts had failed. Sam was too tired and emotionally drained to face up to a demon, let alone Crowley.

Castiel carried the younger Winchester towards the only bed in the cabin and laid him down. He tucked the blankets as best he could over Sam. He sat on the chair a few feet away from the bed but close enough he could watch the younger man. Castiel frowned when he, once again, got a good look at Sam’s haggard face. Sam had only had a half a sandwich in twenty-four hours and lots of coffee and alcohol. Castiel knew that was not healthy. He almost felt like taking the younger Winchester to the bunker but knew that if Sam did not see Dean when he woke up he would react, well, badly. No, he would watch over the Sam here in the cabin and would do everything in his power to give Sam a restful, nightmare free, sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating. I took summer classes and only had a week and half vacation. I just started my fall classes last week and I’m going the whole week so I won’t be able to update soon. I started and finished this chapter today so it will be chuck full of errors, please bear with me on that.  
> Hope you enjoyed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any other recognizable characters. I just own the douchebags that are getting their just desserts for hurting my Sammy.  
> Enjoy.

The beginning of the fourth day of torturing Billy woke Dean up from a nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare of torturing the bastards; no it was of Sammy being in trouble…from him. In his dream he chased Sam around not understanding as to why his little brother was running away from him. Finally, when he caught up to Sam his younger brother begged Dean not to hurt him, that’s when the nightmare begun. Without being able to control his body he began raping Sam. Thankfully, it didn’t get too far as Dean got startled to wakefulness.

Dean could hear the muffled screams of Billy and for some reason it helped calm him down. (How sick was that?) Dean had really done a number on him these past few days. When Dean wasn’t torturing him then the demons were having fun with the asshole. Billy hadn’t had a moment of relief from the minute Dean had gotten here and he won’t have any even in death.

Dean got up trying to shake off the nightmare. He went into the shower and took a nice long hot one thinking of how he was going to continue with Billy’s torture. The man was nothing more than a mass of blood and pain but he knew he could get Billy to feel even worst. He just had to get creative. Though, Dean felt like it had stretched quite a while now. Maybe it was time to kill Billy and go after the bigger fish, Fred.

Dean got out of the shower having made his mind. Today Billy would die, and he would make sure to make it nice, slow, and painful.

OoOoOoOo

“Kind of gruesome, Squirrel. I will say this; I never thought you had it in you.” Dean ignored the King of Hell in favor of the device that was being installed in front of him. Really, Dean should be disturbed with his own twisted thoughts but he just felt giddy. Before him was the one device he despised so much that he decided to use it on Billy; the Rack.

Dean knew how much the Rack could fuck a person (or soul) up and he intended to use it. He heard a groan as the four demons carried a bloodied Billy out of the cottage. Crowley turned to look at the man too and only raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Squirrel, I’ll leave you to your fun and games,” he disappeared without saying anything else, not that Dean cared. He had everything he needed from Crowley and if he needed more he could just call him. Dean knew the moment Billy saw the next instrument of his torture because he suddenly screamed so loud that Dean was surprised he still could because how much he had these past four days.

“Hey, shut up, God.” Dean walked up to him and slapped him hard in the face that Billy seemed too disoriented to keep with the noise.

“Tie him up on the tree; make sure his feet don’t touch the ground.” Dean watched as the demons tied him up with his arms behind his back. Billy was tied in strappado on a tree branch and his feet were about four feet off the ground. That had to hurt like a mother. When he was satisfied with the way the man was tied he got two cinder blocks that he had and tied one around Billy’s legs. He did love that scream. He pushed the man to see him swing from the tree and Billy screamed even louder, if that was possible.

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked while making sure that Billy kept swaying on the tree. His only answer was a scream.

“Good.” Dean amused himself by pushing Billy, by pulling his body down. He was glad Billy was tied to such a sturdy branch. After getting bored, Dean left the man hanging and went to eat breakfast. Torturing made him hungry. When he finished he took out his phone and rang his brother knowing Sam wouldn’t pick up. He was surprised, then, when he heard a weary ‘hello’.

“Sammy? Hey, little brother, how you’ve been?” There was silence on the other end and Dean thought Sam had hung up.

“I’ve been fine. How about you, are you at the Bunker?” Dean stayed silent and was about to lie when Sam spoke.

“Who is it?” he whispered through the phone.

“Sam…”

“I have to go.” Sam hung up before he could get another word in. He really was a fuck up.

 

OoOoOoOo

Castiel flew into the cabin with a bag of groceries of what he thought Sam might need. He frowned at the picture before him. He had only been gone for a little under an hour and it was only nine in the morning but already Sam was well into his way of being drunk. He put the groceries on the table and Sam didn’t even look up.

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

Sam said nothing and took another swing of the bottle. Castiel got irritated and took the bottle from Sam’s hands. Sam said nothing and Castiel decided to take the groceries out of the bags. Eventually, Sam would say something, or not. Castiel wouldn’t push it, though. He got his reward a few minutes later.

“Dean called. I decided to pick up. Turns out he was with one of _them._ ” Sam gave a rueful laugh.

“He had the nerves to call me when he was…” he trailed off. Castiel could see unshed tears on the young man’s eyes before Sam angrily wiped them off.

“I, uh, found something while you were off shopping.” Castiel said nothing at the obvious subject change.

“What did you find?”

“Dead bodies showing up all over the Midwest last week; Benton, Indiana; Downers Grove, Illinois; uh, Novi, Michigan; and then again last night in Lincoln Springs, Missouri.”

Castiel cocked his head in confusion.

“They were found with severe burns around their eyes, hands, and feet, puncture wounds through the backs of their hands, eyes and internal organs liquefied.”

Castiel nodded, “It sounds like something one of my brethren would do.” Castiel really didn’t want to meet with any of his brothers or sisters but he did need to make sure the Angel Tablet didn’t fall in any angels or demons hands, namely Naomi or Crowley.

“Fine, we should get a move on.” Sam got up and went into the cabins only room. Castiel took that opportunity to call Dean.

“Hello?”

“What in the hell were you thinking calling Sam while you’re doing what you are?”

“I…Wasn’t. I honestly didn’t even think he would answer… How is he?”

“It’s under control. I suggest you pick Dean, either you continue down the path you are or think about your brother.” He hung up, feeling angry at the eldest Winchester.

OoOoOoO

The sun was setting and it was getting cooler as Billy Carlsen died. In the end Dean had decided to impale the bastard but not before adding a few extra nails and other sharp items so it would hurt more as his body went down the pole. Dean had also added a few weights so it could happen just a tiny bit faster, knowing that impaling can take up to days. Beside him was Crowley drinking a red drink with a little umbrella and pitchfork sticking out of it.

Billy had been put to through the wringer after Sam had hung the phone. Dean had put him on the rack and took hours stretching Billy on the Rack. By the time he was done, Billy’s joints had been dislocated and the man was probably begging death to take him. Dean had given him the wish but it was also painful.

“Gotta say Squirrel, just when I think you can’t go darker, you surprise me.” Dean ignored him. An hour after the sun set Billy died. It wasn’t pretty and it was painful but Dean didn’t care, he got what he deserved and now he was burning in Hell with his other friends. Dean watched the last embers of the cabin die as he got into the Impala. He drove off going after the last one. Fred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Billy’s dead and Fred’s next. Don’t worry I will fix Sam and Dean’s relationship and I might let a certain demon that has a crush on Cas live, who knows. 
> 
> Hope you liked. 
> 
> All Mistakes are my own.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred's time is about to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t own Supernatural or any other recognizable characters. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“Another one,” Dean ordered. He was in a run-down bar in the middle of nowhere. It was his fifth hour in the bar and God knew how many drinks he had already had.

“Sorry, dude, cutting you off now. Besides, we’re about to close.” Dean grunted, left money on the counter and walked to the motel he was staying; he didn’t take the car because he knew he’d be getting drunk. Dean walked into the crummy room that stank of mold and went straight to bed. Not even a minute later he was asleep.

OoOoOoOo

_In the dream there was nothing but darkness and fog surrounding him. In the distance he heard feint sobbing. It sounded like Sam. Dean ran towards the sound, dread settling deep in the pit of his stomach. Dean ran, ran as fast as he could but it seemed the faster he went the further away the sobbing became._

_‘Sammy?’_

_As soon as Dean stopped running Sam appeared in front of him. His baby brother was bloodied, bruised and crying. Every fiber of Dean’s being wanted to comfort him but just as he was about to Sam disappeared and reappeared tied spread-eagle on a bed. Dean was horrified. He went to Sam to try to untie him._

_“NO, please, Dean I’m sorry no more.”_

_“Don’t worry; I am getting you out, Sammy.” As soon as his hands touched the ropes Dean felt an invisible force push him away from Sam. Dean quickly got up, angry._

_“Show yourselves, you bastards.” All he could here was Sam’s pleas and small weeping. Dean started for Sam again when he got surprised by the person in front of him, it was…himself. Well, almost, the Dean in front of him had an evil, chilly smirk on his face. He had blood on his hands and his eyes were pitch black, like a demon’s._

_“What the fuck?”_

_Demon Dean smirked at him and went towards Sam, who was helpless and pleading for it to stop. Dean saw as his evil doppelganger pet Sam’s hair. Dean had a black hole in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right. Sam’s pleadings had gotten louder and the evil Dean kissed Sam on the forehead._

_“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you Sammy, I always have.” What happened next had Dean horrified and sick. The other Dean got between the V of Sam’s legs and started raping him. Sam screamed. He screamed and sobbed and pleaded for the other Dean to stop but it seemed to spur the monster on._

_Dean was going to get the bastard off but as soon as he tried an invisible wall stopped him. He couldn’t do anything but scream and hit the wall, telling the demon version of himself to stop, he was hurting Sammy, stop!_

_Evil Dean turned to look at him. Dean shivered at the dead, emotionless depths of the black eyes and the evil smirk. The Demon then brought up his hand and turned it into a fist. As soon as he did Dean felt his throat close and he couldn’t breathe. Just as his vision started blurring he woke up._

 

Dean sat up and then vomited on the floor, the nightmare still vivid in his mind. As soon as his organs stopped trying to leave his body he went to the bathroom to wash his teeth. Then he took out his phone. He went to Sam’s number and had his finger over the call button.

He really wanted to make sure Sam was fine but two things stopped him. The first was his dream. Dean felt like shit for what he did to Sam in his nightmare. Second was Sam’s voice when Dean had called last. Dean had no idea what to do. In the end he called Sam. He didn’t know what to feel when he heard Sam’s voicemail. Dean started talking after the beep.

“Hey, Sammy, I know you’re mad at me and will probably erase it when you see it but in case you do I have to explain something. Ever since I pulled you out of the fire I have always protected you. I know we’ve had our ups and downs and I wasn’t always able to protect you from the things that truly mattered, but I tried, Sammy.”

“When…when I came back from Purgatory, I was pissed off; I wanted to fight everything that got in my way. Being in Purgatory meant always having to be on high alert, and fighting. Anger made it easier to get by and when I was back on Earth I couldn’t turn it off. Unfortunately I took it out on you and didn’t stop to ask _why_ you didn’t look for me even though you’ve always tried to help me with my problems anyway you could.

“I should’ve stopped and talked to you. Then I found out about _them,_ what they’d done to you and suddenly I had to find a way to protect you and make you feel better. I was your big brother again and I wasn’t going to let _anything_ stop me from being there for you… It fell miserably, didn’t it?”

“I really wanted to help you and take away the threat on your life. I will admit that a part of me just wanted to hurt them for my satisfaction but in the end of the day it is to protect you, Sammy. I’m telling you to forgive me, just try to understand, little brother. I will not allow anything that is a threat to you live. I love you, little brother, I know we don’t say it but I do and I hope on of these days you can accept what I did and maybe stop being angry at me all the time. Take care, Sam, maybe somewhere down the line you and I can put this behind us and be a family again.”

OoOoOoOo

In Lincoln Springs, Missouri both Sam and Castiel had followed a demon to a hotel in town and had to fight a few of them in the room. Castiel mostly took care of them with Sam killing one. They both opened the door that led to a different room and both were surprised what, or rather, who they saw.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?”

“Meg?”  


 

Dean was hidden outside the house where his brother had been tortured for a month. Through his binoculars he saw Fred sitting in the living room watching TV and drinking a beer. The bastard obviously didn’t care of his friends being hunted and dead…Maybe he was an idiot. Either way Dean was ending this.

“Have fun, Squirrel. Call me if you need anything.”

Dean ignored the Crowley and went to the back of the house. He shot the pistol he was carrying in the air. When he stopped the shots echoed all through the forest. He then hid in a bush and waited patiently. He had set a bear trap close to where he was hiding. Dean stared dispassionately while Fred tried to fine the person responsible for the shot. Dean threw a rock close to the trap and Fred followed the sound. Without any warning Fred’s foot got caught on the bear trap. Fred howled in pain and went down to his knees, trying to get the thing off.

“Don’t even bother,” Dean walked out of the bush and put his gun to Fred’s temple.

“Winchester,” sneered the asshole, “I’ve got to say, I thought it was a different Winchester doing all of this. You bastards can’t seem to stay dead.”

Dean smiled and without warning pistol whipped the man he was going to torture last.

“Nope, but you will.” Dean gave a cold smile that would’ve sent the Devil running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it goes. Sorry it’s short and probably not that good. Next chapter, Fred gets what is coming to him. 
> 
> Hope you liked, again sorry for the shortness of the chapter and for taking forever to update.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Fred turn to suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own Supernatural, I’m just borrowing them.  
> All mistakes are my own.  
> Warning: Torture, castration, and non-con scenes. Seriously, this might get really disturbing so if you get queasy easily I recommend you turn around.

Dean pulled an unconscious Fred up from a pulley system on the ceiling. Paul’s feet were a good four inches off the ground. Dean had also cut Fred’s jeans up to little above his knees and taken off his shoes. The bear trap had really done a number on his right foot. It was going to hurt like a bitch when he woke up and Dean couldn’t help but grin. Dean went to put in the finishing touch, an O-ring that kept his mouth open wide.

After he was done he looked around the room where Sammy had been imprisoned for a month. It was a torture room to the max. There were whips, canes and floggers on the wall all lined up and in plain view. There were pulley systems, D-rings imbedded in the floor in different places, there was a sling, a two spanking benches, a saint Andrew cross, and a trunk full of other torture devices. Dean also found a fucking machine and a hose with a drain in the corner of one room. Sam had been locked in this very room and be remained of what was going to happen to him every time he looked at a corner. Dean felt furious. He only had to deal with one more of these fuckers and he’d sleep peacefully and be able to concentrate in fixing his relationship with Sammy. 

He frowned. Dean wondered if Sam had listened to his message or deleted the moment he saw it. Dean would bet on the first one. Sammy had always been a sensitive kid always wanting to talk about feelings. As he grew older he was able to put that trait in the backseat as it rarely helped when hunting but Dean knew Sam was still that sensitive kid that cried when a mama cat got ran over and her kittens were left alone in a box in the middle of winter. No, Sam would listen to it and then they could begin fixing their problems. Fred groaned. First, Dean had to deal with the man that was tied up.

* * *

 

“Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey,” Dean sneered to the man before him, “Do you know who I am?”

Fred glowered at Dean and if looks could kill…well you know.

“What’s with the poo face? You should’ve known this was coming. Did you get my package? Did you put it in your _collection_ to watch later or is it different because it’s your friend?”

Fred continued to glare at Dean, not making any noises, not begging. He wasn’t squirming, trying to get himself free or struggling violently.

“What don’t want to talk; fine by me.” Dean walked up to the bag he had left on the bed and took out two items without showing them to his captive. He had them behind his back as he walked towards Fred and gave a crooked smile at Fred’s glare. The bastard hadn’t moved or done anything but give Dean glares. Dean was going to remedy that. Without warning Dean got a hold of Fred’s tongue and pulled it out. He used a throng to hold it out and then cut it off with a sharp knife. There was a moment of stillness in the room as Dean held the cut appendage in front of Fred’s face.

“Since you won’t talk I guess you won’t need this.”

Fred did scream then and Dean couldn’t help but think that it was a lot of blood pouring out of the man’s mouth.

 

Dean threw the tongue on the floor and stepped on it a few times. He couldn’t help but smirk at the disbelief on Fred’s face. It gave Dean life. Dean brought Fred’s head down a little to make sure the bastard didn’t choke on his own blood. He didn’t want the asshole to die that easily and peacefully. Minutes passed the bleeding let up enough for Dean to let Fred’s head go. There was no chance of him choking on his own blood now. Dean took out a bowl from the bag that he had and put the tongue in it before setting it on fire. Dean couldn’t help but watch Fred’s expression of disbelief and fear with a sadistic joy in his heart.

“Don’t worry, Freddie, we’re just getting started.”

Dean went for the knee splitter before thinking twice and going for a bat with nails embedded in it. He walked towards Fred while swing the bat loosely in his hands. Fred himself was struggling against his bonds. Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. Fred was used to being the tormentor not the tormented.  Without warning Dean swung the bat and hit Fred’s left knee. Fred howled from the pain. It sounded like an animal was in pain rather than a human.

Dean felt a sick thrill going down his spine and he did hit Fred on the same knee again, and again, and again. When Dean stopped Fred’s left knee was hanging lower than it should making Fred’s leg almost touch the ground. Fred himself had fainted.

“Huh,” Dean let Fred’s limp body hit the ground before dragging him the bed. The bed that had seen horrors to many people, monsters and _Dean’s_ little brother. Now the sick asshole that caused all that suffering was going to feel pain on his bed. Dean tied both of Fred’s arms on each bed post and Fred’s right leg on bottom bed post; he saw no point in tying Fred’s left leg as it was nothing more but useless flesh.

Dean then went and took out a few instruments that included a scalpel, medical tongs, and things to stop excess bleeding. He also put on a pair of medical gloves because what he was about to do next was disgusting and he didn’t want his hand to touch Fred’s junk without some type of barrier between them. Then he called for the demons keeping watch to come help him. After all he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Fred; at least not unintentionally. Dean then woke Fred up with smelling salts and watched with delight as he came sputtering awake.

“Fred, I hope you aren’t too attach to your balls because they are about to be snipped off. After all a dog that can’t control himself and his urges deserve to be fixed. Who agrees with me?”

All four demons raised their hands with delighted smirks on their faces. It was the same expression kids put on when their parents told them they could buy as much candy as they wanted.

“Any objections?” Fred started protesting as best as he could with no tongue to make any coherent sounds but Dean ignored him.

“Well, since no one does let’s get this show on the road,” he put his hand out dramatically just as he’d seen it be done on Doctor Sexy, “Scalpel.”

As soon as there was one in his hand he went straight to Fred’s ball and pulled on them so they stretched away from Fred’s body. Fred had become hysterical and was trying to struggle around while making incoherent noise from his throat. Dean felt a vicious type of victory having the man that tortured his brother beg to Dean. It really was a power drive.

Dean had done this procedure many times in Hell. The only differences were that if he did one wrong move Fred could bleed to death and after it was done Fred would never grow his balls back so Dean could only do it once. Still he went right in and used the scalpel to do the cut right between his two balls and then asked for the tongs. He used it to pull the flesh apart and again used the scalpel to sever the vans deferens. Finally, Dean pulled out the two testes from the protection of Fred’s body and held it up in front of Fred’s tearful face, disbelief coloring his expression. Throughout the whole procedure Fred had been screaming and thrashing about. His mind yelling that it was all a bad dream and it wasn’t really happening, but when he saw the proof of his manhood being held aloft in front of him instead of being on him he knew it was real. His last thought before he feinted was that he should’ve left Sam Winchester alone.

 

Dean felt oddly calm as he cut the balls into pieces while Fred woke up. After the newly castrated man did Dean asked the demons to keep his mouth open and fed Fred the little chopped up pieces of his testes. When that was done, Dean told the demons to do whatever he wanted with Fred while he rested. Hearing Fred’s pleas was a lullaby to his ears and lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hope you liked it. Sorry if it was a little over the top but it will get worst so if you didn’t like this chapter I recommend you stop reading it. 
> 
> I will try to update soon.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, just using the characters for a while.
> 
> Warning: Extreme torture scenes and non-con

Dean woke up a few hours later not having slept too long. He wanted to get back to Fred and continue with his torment. Even in his dreams he was finding new ways to torture the asshole. Of course, Dean would take that any day over his nightmares involving Sam. Dean got up and went downstairs to find the demons sodomizing a naked Fred with the pointy part of a brush. Dean raised his eyebrow at the brutality but didn’t really care for what they were doing to Fred who was whimpering and bleeding from his anus. He deserved it.

“Alright boys and girls, time for daddy to take over.” The demons stopped and went upstairs with shit eating grins gracing their faces. Dean shook his head almost fondly before appearing to Fred and crouching down to his eye level.

“They’re like unruly children, did you have fun?”

Fred of course said nothing but was pleading with his eyes. Dean felt anger coursing through him. The bastard dared looked for mercy after what he had done to Sammy? Fuck no. Dean got out his knife and slashed it across Fred’s eyes. Fred gave a blood curling scream that placated Dean’s anger for the moment. At least he wouldn’t have to see the begging in the jackass’ eyes; he didn’t deserve that luxury.

Dean went to his bag and took out an instrument that looked like what the Catholics used to throw holy water called a lead sprinkler. The only difference was that the one he had was used for throwing molten lead, or boiling water. Dean settled for boiling water. He called for a demon and told him to put water to boil. After that Dean let Fred’s body hit the floor and the man howled with pain. Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the skin that used to hold Fred’s balls hanging there with nothing in them.

Dean pulled the man up to a chair and tied up his arms; he didn’t bother with Fred’s legs as one had a broken foot and the other one a broken knee. No way in hell would Fred be able to move them let alone run in them. Dean then got the thumbscrew and couldn’t help but smile down at his hapless victim. Without his eyesight Dean knew Fred would be surprised with every new torture and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Dean got a hold of Fred’s left hand and had to open it up as Fred had it in a fist.

When he did get open Dean didn’t waste any time and began breaking the thumb before going to the right one. Fred himself had gone from screaming to whimpering. Huh, Dean would have to find a way to remedy that; he wanted to hear the man’s screams. Dean heard footsteps coming down the stairs and saw the demon carrying a pot of boiling water.

“Awesome, hold it for me while I fill this up…” Dean put the water in the lead sprinkler and threw the first bout on Fred’s face. The man howled and struggled against his bonds. It made Dean feel good and began sprinkling boiling water on every part of Fred’s body. Dean went through the whole pot and was pleased to see the burns on Fred’s body. They decorated almost every available inch of Fred and Dean knew they would bring a fresh torture. Fred hanged his head when the boiling water stopped falling on him almost as if it was too tiring to keep it up. Dean let him be and went upstairs.

The demons were outside keeping guard. Dean went upstairs to get a fresh set of clothing while throwing the current ones in a pile to be burned later. He should really wear an apron. Dean washed his hands as best as he could and went to look for something to eat. He made a sandwich and took out a beer and sat to eat. While eating Dean’s mind wandered. How was Sam? He didn’t answer any of Dean’s calls and if it wasn’t for Cas he wouldn’t know what would be going on. Dean decided to call Cas.

Dean waited for the Cas to pick up. After a few rings it went to voicemail. Dean began to worry. Did something bad happen? Was Cas in trouble…Was Sam? He called again and once more it went to voicemail.

“Cas, what are you doing? Pick up your phone I’m worried about you guys. Is Sammy alright? Call me!”

Dean sat on the table, his brain supplying him with horror images as of both Sam and Cas hurt, or worst dead. Just as he was about to freak out the phone rang. It was Cas.

“What the hell, man, why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Apologies, I forgot it in the room. I went with Sam to the diner; I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“Oh, thank God, I was having horror shows running through my head.”

“Apologies,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s fine; he’s been distracted with the current hunt we are on. People were found dead and with their eyeballs burned out. I think it’s one of my siblings.”

“Huh, don’t let Sam get too close to them. No offence but most of your siblings are dicks.”

“None taken, don’t worry, I’ll keep Sam safe.”

“Thanks Cas. I’ll be done soon and hopefully I patch things with Sam.”

“Of course, I have to go, Sam just entered the room.”

Dean heard the dial tone and felt something was wrong even with Castiel’s reassurances. Was he being paranoid or was there really something to worry about? Dean got up and went back downstairs. Dean wanted to whip Fred with the same whip Fred had used on his Sam.

OoOoOoOo

In a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, an angel, a demon, and a hunter were using the strongest spell they knew to summon the King of Hell.

“I still say this is a bad idea.”

“Shut up, Meg. We have to find out where Crowley has the demon tablet and kill him. It’ll it benefit all of us. Did you get the Angel Tablet?”

Meg gave Sam a sour face before producing a squared, clay tablet and handing it to Castiel.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

Sam let a match go into the bowl, hoping this time the summons would work.

“Well, if it isn’t Moose and the crazy angel. Oh, hello, whore, didn’t see you there.”

“Shut it, dick, by the time this is done I’ll be laughing as I plunge a knife through your heart.”

“You hurt me, Meg.”

“Enough,” Sam shouted, “where’s the Demon Tablet?”

“Safe.”

“Give it back to us and we might let you live.”

“Sorry, no can do. It was part of a deal and if I have to return it I’ll go back to hunting the prophet and his mother.”

Sam was taken aback, “Did—did Kevin make a deal with you?”

Crowley laughed. It went on for a while before Castiel got out his angel blade.

“Tell us what you know or I’ll drive my blade through your skull.”

“Oh Cas, such a flirt. You really don’t know do you?”

“Obviously or we wouldn’t be asking.”

“Well, Moose hold on to your bootstraps. The person who made a deal with me was one Dean Winchester.”

Sam’s face went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m almost done with this story. I will probably write two or three more chapters and then I’m done. I will write a timestamp but I still don’t know if I’ll write Sam’s captivity. I really like writing this series but I’ve felt I’ve spent way too much time on it and want to start other projects.
> 
> Sorry for such a short torture scene. I’m kind of running out of ideas and don’t want to bore you guys with the same tortures.   
> Thanks for reading.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or any recognizable characters; they belong to their rightful owners.  
> Usual warnings apply

Dean’s arms were tiring out but he couldn’t bring himself to stop whipping Fred with the same one the bastard had used on Sam’s body. Dean felt a sick, satisfactory glee every time he heard Fred’s muffled screams. After almost an hour Dean’s arms refused to keep going so he put the whip down and sat for a while watching Fred’s face contoured in pain and humiliation. A few minutes later and Dean had taken out a knife.

An idea had come to him. He went up to Fred and got him a chokehold and then he put the tip of the knife on Fred’s bald scalp. Dean started writing on it and heard Fred’s choked out screams.

“Stop squirming, bastard,” Dean tightened his hold on Fred and dug the knife deeper. Ten minutes later Dean had finished; it said, ‘Rapist Pig’.   

Dean stood back and admired his work. Then it was ruined. Fred started whining and even with his lost tongue Dean could tell he was pleading for mercy, for forgiveness. Dean felt the icy anger returning. He still dared asked for mercy after what he had done? Dean said nothing. He went to his bag and took out a needle and some thread. He walked up to Fred and since the tortured man couldn’t see anymore he didn’t know what was coming next.

Dean started sewing Fred’s eyelids together. He knew it wasn’t going to do anything to Fred’s vision but it did serve to remind Fred about his helplessness and inability to do anything to protect himself. Dean then moved to Fred’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear any more whining at the moment and sewed both lips together; Dean smiled at the fun it would be taking out the stitches. The whole thing took twenty minutes.

He frowned when he saw Fred’s scalp was still bleeding and decided to put some whiskey to disinfect. He gave a cold smile when the alcohol hit the wounds. Even with his mouth sewed shut Fred’s screams reached Dean’s ears. Dean got a chair, spun it around and sat on it, facing Fred.

“You deserve worse than this. For what you did to my baby brother, you deserve Hell. Don’t worry you’ll be there in a few days. When you do go down there I want you to remember this: Sam, the man you tortured and raped for weeks was in a worst place than you could ever imagine. He threw himself into Lucifer’s holding place with him and the Archangel Michael. They were both pissed at him and used him for God knows how long. He did it to save the world.”

“He gave up his chance to go to Heaven and be in eternal peace to save this world for a bunch of ungrateful pieces of shit like you and your friends. I’m proud of what he did even if I would rather have seen the world burn than let him do it. Then you came along and took away his self-worth. He saved you and your fucking friends and you destroyed him emotionally. There’s no way in Hell I would let scum like you walk the Earth, take the same breath as my brother after what you did. I would rather go to Hell again than let that happen.”

There was a moment of silence before Dean heard his name being called softly, “Dean?”

 “Sam,” Dean couldn’t believe it. There, in front of him, was his little brother. A little brother that was swaying and way too pale.

“Sammy, what—how,” Dean gulped, “How did you know I was here, how’d you find me?”

“Crowley,” was his only response. Dean didn’t know what to say. He and Crowley had made a deal so why would he tell Sam?

“Cas and I we were looking for him to get back the tablet. We couldn’t summon him the normal ways so we went all out to get a meeting face to face and he told us everything. Dean, just stop this, let's go home instead. Please?”

Dean stared right at Sam’s pleading eyes. They had gotten huge and Dean could see the pleas and misery deep in those hazel orbs. He went up to hug Sam but stopped when he remembered he was covered in blood.

“What would you have me do Sammy? He hurt you; I can’t just let that go.”

“I’m not asking you to let it go, I asking you to stop. Let’s go home; I’m not mad, I swear. I just want to go home and be with my big brother again.”

“Sammy,” Dean wanted to explain everything to him.

“I know, Dean, I know, which is why I’m asking you to please just come home with me. I don’t care what you did if that’s the reason that’s stopping you. I forgive you; I don’t care, just please!”

Dean was speechless; he didn’t know what to say to his little brother. Sam must’ve interpreted Dean’s silence into something else, though.

“Please, if _I_ did something wrong, then I’m sorry, but I wanna go home.”

By the end Sam had gotten a fistful of Dean’s shirt and was probably seconds of away from getting on his knees to beg more. Dean wasn’t having that. If anyone should be begging it was him, not his baby brother. 

 “Sammy, go upstairs.”

“But…”

“Go Sammy, I promise I’ll be up soon.”

Sam stared at Dean with pleading eyes and then let go of his shirt. Sam wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his shirts and walked up the stairs. Dean could see the way Sam’s shoulders were curled inwards and the slumped back. He waited a few minutes before all his emotions were let loose in one wave of anger. He got and threw anything he got his hands on. Things were broken and tears were spilling from his eyes.

When he felt a little better he saw the destruction he had caused in the room of tortures. Sex toys were littered all over the place, canes and whips ripped or broken and other items bent beyond recognition. The bed had been stripped and the sheets were ripped. At one point he had used something to hit the posts until they too were broken. Dean laid his eyes on Fred who had wet himself in Dean’s angry rampage. He walked up to the quivering man and looked at him with disgust.

“You assholes still hurt my brother. Even if you die, you’ll always be there to hurt him won’t you?”

As expected, Fred couldn’t say anything so Dean didn’t get an answer to his question. He got angry again and slapped Fred hard.

“I won’t _let_ you or your friends hurt him. Not anymore. I refuse to let it keep happening and if that means I have to stop and let my anger go to help Sam then so be it. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you live,” Dean took his knife out of its hiding place, “Enjoy Hell asshole.”

Dean slit Fred’s throat and watched the man he hated the most die before him.

 

Castiel was worried. When Sam found out that Dean had made a deal with Crowley he had walked right out of the warehouse. Castiel had followed him and got there just in time to see Sam cutting himself with a knife. He had run up to the youngest Winchester and taken it away before calming him down.

When he managed to Castiel had tried to heal Sam but he had refused and instead went back to demand Crowley tell him where Dean was.

“Sorry, Moose, can’t. Keeping his location is until he was done is part of the deal and I can’t break it.”

“You already did when you told us what he was doing.”

“Yes, but you were threatening my life and I honestly don’t think it would be good to tell you any more. He could say I went back on my deal and try to take the tablet from me.”

“Crowley, I swear if you don’t tell me what you know I’ll—” before Sam finished his threat Castiel butted in.

“What if we make a deal now, you tell us where Dean is and we’ll let you go, unharmed.”

“I’m sorry, what? If you let him go, he’ll try to kill me, Clarence! We can find Dean ourselves after we kill the bastard.”

Castiel thought for a moment, she did have a point. Crowley wouldn’t stop looking for her and want to kill her. Meg’s death would really sadden Castiel so he quickly thought of another solution.

“We’ll let you go _and_ let you keep that tablet if you tell us were Dean is, not hunt Meg down and hold your bargain with Dean of the Trans.”

Crowley had agreed and Castiel had transported them to the house where Sam had been tortured. When they got there Sam had ran into it and gone to find Dean.

Now Sam was outside, sitting by the Impala with his knees drawn up to his chest and he still refused Castiel’s offer to heal his arm.

“You think he’ll stop?”

Castiel looked at the youngest, not really knowing how to answer. He looked at Meg trying to find an answer and she shrugged mouthing, “Don’t look at me, demon, remember?”

Before Castiel could answer though and probably make things awkward, Dean Winchester walked out the house.

 

  The moment Sam saw him Dean was attacked by his little brother’s hug. He steadied Sam and himself and let himself feel his little brother in his arms. Dean tightened his arms around Sam and drew his face to his shoulder. (Dean was also glad he had changed clothes before coming outside.) Dean felt his heart break when he heard his little brother’s sobs and felt the tears on his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Sammy, I’m here now and I promise I won’t leave you again.” They stayed like that for long minutes until someone cleared their throat, loudly. Dean was about to tell the person off when he saw who it was.

“Meg? Why aren’t you dead?”

“Really, all this time and that’s how you greet me? Great to see I was missed. At least, Clarence here did.”

She looked at Castiel who looked back and Dean just about puked at the way they looked at each other. Like they were the only two people in the world, yuck. Sam decided to raise his head then and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. That’s when Dean noticed the red on Sam’s sleeves. What the hell? Before Dean could ask, though, Castiel spoke.

“I believe you two have much to catch up with. Meg and I will get out of your hair and maybe…”

“We’re going to order pizza and move some furniture,”

“Ew, I don’t want that image in my head!”

“I don’t understand Dean, what image?”

“Let’s you go, Clarence,” both angel and demon disappeared leaving the Winchesters alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long; this chapter did not want to get written. Anyway, the next chapter will be last one and then I’m going to write the time stamp that I have in mind.  
> I have also decided to write the story in Sam’s POV about his captivity but I won’t start it until mid-May at the soonest. Like I’ve said there are other stories I want to write and I’ve spend a while on this one. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter it may not be my best but hopefully it’s good enough.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Dean and Sam forgive each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural. All mistakes are my own.  
> So, my last chapter for this story, I want to thank everyone that has come this far with me. Not to worry, though, as I am not finished with this series. I’m going to do a timestamp and then I’m going to write Sam’s ordeal in his POV. The Sam POV isn’t going to come out till later, though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks once again.

Dean drove as fast as he could to get as far as he could from that house. Sam was quiet beside him but wouldn’t let go of his hold on Dean’s sleeve. Dean didn’t really mind. He drove for two hours straight before noticing Sam trying to keep his head up and eyes open. Dean checked the time and saw it was only a little after nine. It must’ve really been a long day for Sam if was nodding off already. Dean started looking for signs that signaled a motel stop.

By the time Dean found an exit Sam was asleep. He looked for a motel to crash in but the first one had no vacancy and the second one looked like a dump. Usually, he wouldn’t care but he didn’t want Sammy in it after what he’d been through. A few miles down the road he found a modest sized bed and breakfast and decided to crash there.

“Sam, hey—Sammy,” Dean shook Sam’s shoulder watching as he woke bleary eyed and confused.

“Dean, where are we,” Dean would never admit out loud how cute and childlike Sam was when waking up.

“Where does it look like? We’re going to crash here for the night,” more if they needed to.

“Okay, but why here it looks…”

“Look, the other two places I passed were out of vacancy and I’m too tired to keep driving so we’re staying here.”

Dean got out of the car and waited for his brother to follow him. He helped Sam stay upright; the kid was extremely pale and swaying in place. The fact that Sam didn’t protest Dean’s help just showed how tired Sam was. Dean got both of them inside slowly and then sat Sam on a chair while he rang the little bell. A few moments later an older woman with gray hair and a kind, motherly expression came from the door behind the desk.

“Good evening, how may I help you?”

“I would like a room with two beds.”

The lady smiled warmly, “Of course, will two queens do fine?”

Dean nodded. The lady got a set of keys and asked they followed her. He helped Sam stand up and guided him up the stairs.

“Younger brother,” Dean looked up at the lady who had stopped in front of a heavy looking door.

“Yeah, he is.” The lady smiled.

“I can always tell. This is your room; breakfast is from seven to ten. We also have brunch starting at eleven thirty until two in the afternoon. Enjoy your stay.”

Dean opened the door and was pleasantly surprised that not one doily or a horrible shade of pink didn’t greet him. The room was a navy color with beige accents. The beds themselves were in beige sheets instead of floral patterns one.

“Thank God, no doilies.” Dean smiled, seemed Sam and he was in the same train of thought. Dean went to the bed farthest from the door and sat his brother on it. He turned around and but the duffel bags on his bed and took out a first aid kit. He hadn’t forgotten the blood on Sam’s shirt. Dean turned around to see Sam already on his side.  

“Oh no you don’t, later little brother, right now I have to check something,”

Sam whined as Dean sat him up and then took off his jacket followed by the over shirt he was wearing.

“Stop that, perv, I can undress.”

Dean ignored Sam and got a hold of his arm. Sam seemed to remember the cuts he had there because he tried to pull his arm away. Dean held on to it.

“Hey, I just want to clean them and bandage you up.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam looked down, seemingly too scared to look Dean in the eyes.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. I am wondering why you didn’t let Cas heal you, though.” Sam shrugged.

Dean said nothing and disinfected Sam’s cuts. Sam flinched a little when the alcohol hit the cuts which had Dean murmuring ‘sorry’ for him. Ten minutes later Sam’s cuts had been dressed.

“There we go.”

Sam looked at his bandaged arm with sadness filling his eyes. Dean’s heart broke. He wished he could take all of Sam’s pain away but he knew he couldn’t. Naively, a part of Dean had thought that if the bastards were gone Sam could have gone back to normal. Unfortunately, nothing could erase what he had gone through that month no matter how much he did.

Dean felt like shit. He had gone against Sam’s wishes and killed them all in the hopes that it would help Sam but deep down he knew it was mostly for his selfish needs. Sam was still suffering and there was nothing he could about it. Suddenly, Dean felt arms around his waist.

“Just be here for me, please,” Sam asked softly. Dean stifled a laugh; only Sammy could read him like an open book. Of course, having grown up and still living in each other’s pockets, it was bound to happen. Dean put his arms around Sam’s shoulder. He knew what was happening; Sam was looking for comfort in Dean just as Dean was in Sam. They stayed in silence for a long time, clinging to each other, finding relief in being in his brother’s arms. Dean sighed and was about to let go when he felt Sam rubbing his face on Dean’s shirt. Then he felt the wet spots.

“Are you—are you wiping your snot on my shirt?”

Sam stilled and Dean heard a hesitant, “no.”

“You little snot-nosed brat,” he said without any heat behind his words. Sam answered by blowing his nose on Dean’s shirt.

“Oh, ugh, seriously, Sam?”

Sam gave a smile that warmed Dean’s heart. It was a genuine smile that reached his eyes and brought out his dimples. Dean tried not to smile back but failed.

“Alright, go change clothes and I’ll change my shirt.”

Sam got up after yelling dibs on the bathroom. Dean couldn’t help the widening in his smile. They had a long way to go but at least, for the moment, the bridges had gaped.

 

OoOoOoO

Dean was watching some old timey western movie on Sam’s bed. The moment Sam had gotten out of the bathroom he went straight to bed and fell asleep moments later. Dean took a quick shower and changed into comfortable clothes. He was too wound up to go to sleep so he sat on the bed with Sam’s breath puffing by his hips.

Dean couldn’t help but look at his little brother, confirming that he’s still alive; still with Dean. He also thought of how quickly Sam forgave him but that was Sam. Dean could go on a killing spree and then try to kill Sam and the little twerp would still forgive him. Sam suddenly became a human octopus as he put his arms and legs around Dean.

“Hey, human furnace, stop that.” Sam mumbled in his sleep and tightened his hold on Dean. Dean gave a long drawn out sigh but didn’t move to push Sam. The kid had been through enough and if he wanted to use Dean as a human teddy bear then he’d let him.

Dean continued to watch the movie until the end. He turned off the TV and saw it was three in the morning. It was time for him to go to sleep. He detangled himself from Sam’s embraced and went to his own bed. He lay on his side, having a clear view of Sam.

Dean watched as Sam started patting the bed, probably looking for Dean. He saw as Sam’s face scrunched up and then he started whining. Dean sat up, “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Dean got out of his bed and went to Sam’s bed holding on to his brother. He remembered how when their dad had first said they needed to sleep in separate beds Sam did the same thing for the first few months. Eventually, he got used to sleeping alone but sometimes, when he was scared or sad or hurt, Sam would regress to that childlike state of wanting his big brother in his bed. Dean kissed the top of Sam’s head and he immediately settled.

“I’m here, Sammy, and I won’t let you go,” Sam snuggled closer to his brother, a content sigh escaping his lips, “that doesn’t mean I’ll always sleep in the same bed as you, twerp.”

Dean closed his eyes, sleep suddenly making them heavy. Even though he said that he knew that whenever his brother needed him he would be there. That’s his job after all and it isn’t one he’s too keen to give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. I hope its good enough and you guys find it up to par. Thank you again for staying with me this long. I’ll put the timestamp up soon (in about a week or two) and then I’m going to start the other story from Sam’s POV. So look for that timestamp soon.


End file.
